Silent Hill: Lost Souls
by Mike N
Summary: The horror isn't over. Snatched from defeating Claudia at the last second, Heather Mason is whisked outside of Silent Hill only to be reluctantly teamed with three other teens, who have faced horrors of their own, to confront a reborn Samael.
1. Unknown Horror

I.

Michael McNeal sleepily reached for his cell phone as the sing-song chimes continued to invade his sleep. His head throbbed and his ears still rang, affected by the overly bass-filled, fast-paced music that thumped the walls of the club the night before. The light smell of smoke, cologne, and alcohol still lingered in his nose and on his body, making him wince.

He had to force his eyes open, and even then, they only responded with a slight crack, which was enough to find the phone. After fumbling for a few moments, his hand reached his gray, N400 Samsung. He pulled the phone into the bed with him and let it ring one more time, before flipping it open.

"Hello?" his smooth, sleepy voice croaked into the phone.

There was a pause before the voice on the other end spoke, "Michael McNeal?"

"Yeah," he responded. He pulled his left wrist from under the covers. His eyes wouldn't cooperate and focus to simply read his watch. He peered over the covers to the clock on his roommate's desk, but that was covered with some haphazardly discarded piece of clothing. His roommate lay with his back to Michael. Even though he was still sleeping, his roommate served no real indication of the time. It could have been two in the afternoon and Brent still would have been asleep.

"Mike, this is Todd."

Michael internally groaned. Todd volunteered to manage the campus security office of the college he attended. Up until last year, Michael's sophomore year, he had a job there. Michael enjoyed it for the most part, but after a turbulent semester, he had to severely cut back his hours. Todd worked out a deal with Michael for him to work on a volunteer basis, which worked out for Michael just fine. He didn't have to leave the job and he could focus more on the trouble areas of his life.

The job was simple enough: sit there and answer the phone. Occasionally, he would have to do a little footwork, but it was hardly enough to get his heart rate up.

Michael was more awake now, sitting up in his bed. "What's up, Todd?"

"Listen, we have a shortage today. I know it's short notice, but can you come in and watch the office for a while?"

Michael sighed, not caring if Todd heard. He had intended on doing nothing. It was Saturday after all, and after a long night of partying, he needed the rest. But then again, how productive was sitting around being lazy?

He prided himself on his work ethic, even though it faltered every once in a while. Michael referred to these lapses in work ethic his "burnout periods," short amounts of time, usually a few days, where he just didn't do any work. He would preoccupy himself with his Playstation 2 or going out. However, those periods were few and far in-between. Michael was an active student, involved in several activities outside of class including class council, and several different committees.

He was fairly popular, but that really didn't affect him too much. He was more concerned with doing a good job, which was satisfying all in itself for him. Still, he considered saying no to Todd.

"It's just an early afternoon shift," Todd quickly added, somehow sensing Michael's hesitation.

Michael was beginning to reason with himself more. If it was just for the afternoon, it gave him time to go out that night.

"And only for about an hour. Lisa got her schedule mixed up and can't get here until four."

"Sure, no problem," Michael replied.

He had no problem helping Todd out when he could. Todd was a fairly decent guy, even though some of Michael's friends had a slightly different opinion. They said he was egotistical and manipulative, but Michael just attributed it to the people Todd hung around, who were much of the same. Todd had always treated him fairly and decently, so there was no reason not to return the courtesy.

"I knew I could count on you. The keys will be at the front desk."

"Yeah, sure." Before Michael could say anything else, Todd had already hung up the phone. Michael set the phone back on the desk and glanced at his watch. As he suspected, it was two in the afternoon.

_A night of clubbing will do that to you, _Michael mused. He got out of bed quietly and slipped into a robe and grabbed his soap, towel, and washcloth.

The college was a small elite college nestled in the mountains right outside the quaint town of Silent Hill. It was about a twenty minute drive to the town. Though small, it had everything that they ever needed, so it wasn't a big deal. In the summer though, it was a tourist attraction, getting visitors from all over the country.

Michael took longer in the shower than he meant to, enjoying the hot spray of water. When he returned to his room, he noticed his roommate was gone. He dismissed it, thinking his roommate went out for an errand or something.

He put on a pair of jeans, brown boots, and a white, long-sleeved button down shirt. He grabbed a Polo sweater that partially zipped up in the front and his Nike backpack. He slipped his phone in his pocket and threw a few other things in his backpack then set out to the security office.

It was about a ten minute walk from his room. Lucky for him, he didn't have to brave the quickly descending night or the cool breeze. The office was located a few floors down in the same building. He only brought his sweater along in the case that he had to make a run to the other dormitory across campus.

Taking the elevator, Michael was surprised that the hallways were empty. He then remembered his roommate telling him about some festival going on in the town. Everyone was probably already there, including his roommate.

When Michael entered the security office, again he found no one. He scanned the room for some kind of sign that someone had been here before him, but found none.

"That's great," he flatly said. He was always strictly told that the office was not supposed to be left unattended, yet everyone else did so. Michael cynically thought that he was the only one that even paid attention to that rule.

He settled down at the cluttered desk, unhappy with the mess that had been left. He took a few minutes to organize the papers, miscellaneous notes, and books. When he felt everything was in a reasonable order, he sat down and leaned back in the chair, exhaling loudly.

"Only fifty-nine minutes to go," he sighed loudly. He noticed the security log just lying on the desk off to the right. Muttering to himself, he picked it up intending to put it in the drawer. However, when he opened the drawer, he found a gun. A 9mm.

"What's this doing in here?" he asked, not even wanting to touch the thing. He put the security log on top of it and shut the drawer quickly.

He grabbed the phone, intending to call Todd to ask him what the hell a gun was doing in the office. But, when he put the receiver to his ear, static echoed through the earpiece. But this was different from normal static—it had more of a meaning, alternating between high and low crackles, like someone was trying relay a message.

Michael pulled the receiver back from his ear, and looked at it, as if the receiver itself was the cause of the noise. He tried hanging it up and picking it up again, but the same static screamed into his ear.

"I'll just use my cell phone," he said to himself as he grabbed it out of his backpack.

The screen read 'Looking for Service' in bright red letters.

"Great." Michael was disappointed because he usually got great service for his phone. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't have service. Until now. He put the phone back in his backpack and stood, stretching.

He crossed the room to turn on the television when he heard a noise like meat being thrown on a wet floor. It startled him, since he had gotten comfortable with the silence in the building.

Michael listened intently for a moment, waiting to hear something again, but the sound didn't return. He crossed back over to get his cell phone to go outside, but then, a slow scraping noise sounded. It was definitely similar to the first noise except the meat was being slowly dragged across the floor.

He threw on his Polo sweater and threw his backpack on his shoulders, and decided to see what was making the noise. He stuck his head cautiously out of the door and that's when he spied a trail of red something. The first thing that came to his mind was blood. But what was it doing in the hallway?

Michael wasn't one to jump to outlandish conclusions. He didn't believe in ghosts and other strange occurrences. Everything that happened had some kind of explanation for it. He hated people that latched onto superstitions and used them as an explanation for everything.

So when he saw the blood, which is what he was considering it now, he figured that there must be some logical reason for it.

Still, it was better to be on the safe side. He went back for the gun in the drawer. He didn't care for guns much, but he knew how to shoot a 9mm. His older cousin had taken the liberty of showing him over the summer.

If anything, it was for his own security, not to use it against anyone. At least, he hoped.

The hallway was well lit, so it wasn't as if there was someone trying to sneak into the building. However, Michael still moved carefully down the hallway, hoping to see someone else at least poke their head out of their door to let him know he wasn't alone. Why was he suddenly feeling uneasy?

He followed the trail of blood around a corner. Michael followed the trail with his eyes as it went up the wall. _What the hell would have dragged something up the wall?_

A rising knot in his stomach threatened to stop his breathing, as Michael continued to follow the blood along the wall. He noticed that the hallway seemed to be getting darker as the blood trail got thicker.

The trail continued to loop until it was now on the ceiling. Whatever had made this trail was going through a lot of trouble.

Michael was so busy watching the trail, that when it stopped abruptly, he was a little relieved. He then cast his eyes downward and saw the mangled remains of something indescribable.

The putrid smell invaded his nose and mouth, causing him to choke for a moment.

"What the hell?" he whispered in response to a lurching sound came from the recesses of the hallway. A slow shuffling noise was all that he heard. Michael was frozen. His mind was screaming to run, but his body wouldn't respond. All he could feel was the rapid beating of his heart and the icy gun in his hand.

His legs felt heavy as he finally picked his foot up and took a step back. The sound was coming closer, coming out of the dark. Michael suddenly didn't want to see what it was.

When it came into the light, it was fifty times worse than anything he could have possibly imagined. It was unreal, like something straight out of a gory horror movie. He couldn't even begin to distinguish common features that compared to anything walking on two legs, like a head, or arms, or even a face.

It shambled toward him, with a nonchalant confidence that it was going to achieve its goal, whatever it was. Its body moved almost rhythmically from side to side with each purposeful step. The legs were short, but it was quickly closing the distance.

Michael finally saw a mouth, but it was a gaping, perverse gap in its flesh that opened and closed with ill-intent.

Michael immediately raised the gun, his body finally functioning. He took a few quick steps back and fired. He shot the creature, that's the only thing Michael could call it, six times. It swayed for a second and took another step before falling to the ground. It wiggled and moved in a spastic fashion, obviously hurt from the gunshots. It finally stopped moving as a pool of blood began to form underneath the thing.

He wasted no time in running back to the office. Michael didn't inspect the creature, didn't try to find out what the bloody mass was—he did none of the foolish things people sometimes did in these situations. All he could think of was getting away and getting someone out here who could deal with whatever it was.

Maybe it was some escaped lab experiment gone horribly wrong. Maybe some hospital patient had escaped and went crazy. Maybe Michael was simply hallucinating, that his mind made up an image to cope with seeing a dead body. He tried to bring himself to a dozen rational conclusions, but none of them would quite fit into the situation.

He grabbed the phone, but the same static still sounded, almost seeming louder and more menacing than before. Michael slammed the phone down and went into the drawer again and grabbed the packs of bullets that were in there.

Something distinctly told him that he would need them during the night. He threw them in his backpack and glanced around for anything else that could have been useful.

Before he left the office, Michael had grabbed a first-aid kit, two keys, and a screwdriver out of the office. He wasn't sure why he even thought he would need the tool, but it didn't hurt to have.

He then tried to knock on some of the dorm rooms, but no one answered. Michael tried to open them, but they all seemed to have broken knobs or something wrong with them.

Immediately, Michael knew something strange was going on. He didn't want to admit it though. That would mean having to acknowledge that the creature, or runaway lab experiment, was in fact what anyone would call a monster. And that monster had made a snack of something. No, someone.

He dashed up the stairs. In a smart move, Michael figured using the elevator was too slow and in some ways a death trap. Once at his room, he slammed the door, resting on it for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and decipher what had happened.

Michael drew in a calming breath, and exhaled slowly. He bolted the door, noticing the room was dark, much darker than it should be. The darkness of the evening seemed to have come early, a bit too early. He tried to flip on the light, it came on for a brief second, and he noticed something scrawled on the wall, then the light went out.

He flipped the light switch up and down a few times, coming to the conclusion that the power had gone out.

Michael remembered the flashlight in his drawer underneath the valet, which he was right next to. He felt underneath the sink until his fingers grazed across the small Maglite. Turning it slightly, the white beam cut through the darkness of the room.

Michael turned the light onto the wall. It looked like something had been scribbled in blood, the writing resembling the blood trail along the floor and wall of the hallway. It was hard to read from his angle, but Michael didn't want to leave his spot. He played the light over it carefully, reading it quietly.

YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LEFT YOUR ROOMMATE ALONE. HE CRIED AND SCREAMED, BUT YOU WEREN'T THERE. NOW HE'S ALONE IN THE CLOSET. WAITING FOR YOU.

Michael was frozen. He didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to dart out into the hallway and not look back. The other part figured that there was something much worse waiting for him once he stepped out of the room.

His eyes went to the closet. It seemed like it did any other time, but the message put a whole different spin on the small enclosure.

"Brent," he whispered reluctantly. He knew from watching enough horror movies that his roommate would not answer him back, no matter what condition he was in. Still, it seemed like the only thing to do at this point.

"Brent, are you in there?" his voice faltered, betraying the sense of fear that was overtaking him. He decided to leave it alone. There was no sense in getting himself all worked up, besides, this was probably some elaborate joke someone was playing on him.

Yes, a joke. That would make sense. Why no one was around, why everything just suddenly happened, Todd calling him in on such short notice. Of course, it made sense now. Or at least, Michael tried to make it make sense.

Still, he looked around the room for anything that he may need before he left. He grabbed some food and water, a compass and a map of the area from his desk. He figured that if his friends were playing such an elaborate joke, then they would probably chase him out into the forest. This way, he would be prepared.

He crossed the room, satisfied he had everything that he needed. Michael's eyes fell on the closet again, and he reflected on the cryptic, if not downright creepy, message. Michael dreaded going near the closet, but he had to figure out what had happened.

He walked quietly to the closet, putting his ear to the door. He didn't hear anything...not the slightest noise. He backed up and put his ear in a different place, hoping to hear breathing or something to give away that his roommate was really in there laughing and planning on scaring him. He heard nothing and tried the knob, but it wouldn't open.

At the sound of the knob turning, he heard his roommate.

"Mike, help me. There—there's something else in here with me."

His blood ran cold. Michael's mind instantly went to the creature that he did away with downstairs.

"Brent, is that you?"

"Mike, it's getting closer—"

He wanted to believe that his roommate was playing around, that he was in on the joke, but the fear in his voice couldn't have been fake.

"Brent, open the door," Michael said, turning the knob much more energetically.

"I can't."

"Stop messing around."

"I want to open the door, but my hands...my hands are...gone."

Michael became dizzy. It was like every nightmare and horror story he had read was coming to life at this very moment.

He took immediate action and tried to ram the door.

"It's getting closer!"

Brent's panic was unmistakable. "Brent, hold on. I'll get you out, I—"

A piercing scream rang out. Sickening sounds came from the closet. Michael could only imaging what was happening.

"Brent!" he screamed as he banged on the door. He tried to turn the knob again, but it wouldn't turn. "Answer me, Brent!"

No sound came from the closet. Somehow, Michael knew something had happened to his roommate. He knew that some terrible monster had gotten to him, and there was nothing he could do to save him.

"Brent," he weakly said as he rested his head on the door. The one person that he had found in the school was now gone. Permanently.

Michael composed himself, determined to figure out what was going on. As he neared the door, the closet door began to creak open. The door slowly opened, then stopped.

He didn't want to go near it, not if there was something dangerous still there. "Brent?" he called hesitantly.

No answer.

Michael thought about leaving once again, not even being concerned with the closet or anything else, but Brent...

He walked to the closet door, which hid the inside of the closet from him. Michael's mind went to the gun again, which he held toward the floor, just in case Brent was joking around, he wouldn't shoot him. Then again, a bullet to the leg never killed anyone.

Michael stepped around the closet, half expecting something horrific to leap out at him, but there was nothing. The closet was empty.

He was dumbfounded and bewildered. Michael was positive that he had responded to his roommate's voice, heard the noises, heard the screams, yet, there was nothing there. Clothes hung loosely and undisturbed in the deep closet. Nothing looked out of place, as if all was as it should be.

Then the glint of something on the floor got his attention. A key, with a note.

PHONE: 452-595-0931

Michael studied the key. _Room 431_ was etched on the key. He stuck the key and the note in his pocket, but what was in that room? And more importantly, where was his roommate?

Michael turned to leave, when he saw the writing had changed, to simply read:

I'M DEAD.

Michael ran out of the room, fear emanating from his every pore. This was beyond some simple joke. There was something happening way beyond Michael's understanding. Soon, though, soon he would come to realize the circumstances that surrounded the school and ultimately, the town of Silent Hill.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami. All other characters are fictional.

Whew! I just played through and beat Silent Hill 3—scary stuff. I decided to write this story while sitting alone in my room (even scarier). Any comments or criticisms would help, as I'm constantly trying to improve my writing.


	2. More Victims

I.

Pain. That was the first thing that registered on Christine Mitchell's mind. It was like she had been pelted all over her body with jagged, large stones. Her head was throbbing and she could taste blood in her mouth. Besides that, she felt nausea slowly creeping over her.

Christine clenched her eyes shut, feeling some kind of solace in the fact that she could do that at least, since she couldn't feel the rest of her body. Scared of what she would see, Christine opened her eyes a crack. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust, but when they did, she wished she had kept her eyes closed.

Blood. That was the second item to register in her mind. Christine felt pain, but she immediately knew that the blood wasn't hers. The thick red substance was splattered on her side of the vehicle and all over the windshield. It had pooled on the driver's side, right below where she knew Sean was crushed.

Christine blinked, opening her eyes fully, making sure they didn't accidentally wander to the driver's side of the car. Glass, twisted metal, and papers were scattered below her. Even though a fog had settled over her head, she realized that the car was upside down, probably in the middle of the street.

Pain. The feeling racked her again. Not only was every part of her body screaming for attention, but blood was rushing to her head. On top of that, her seatbelt was on the verge of strangling her.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to pull the seatbelt from around her. Her body felt weak and drained, the seatbelt somehow overpowering her. A small grunt escaped from her lips as she tugged, a tear streaming onto her forehead. It wasn't the time to cry, even though her boyfriend was dead beside her and she was in an overturned car with no way to get out at this point, she knew that she couldn't cry. Not now.

The adrenaline started to flow through Christine's body, as she tugged on the seatbelt, which finally gave. She clumsily tumbled loose, her limbs tangled and awkward in the small space. Reaching for the door handle, she pushed it open and crawled slowly onto the pavement. Christine didn't glance back until she had reached the side of the road.

Settling down, she viewed the overturned car. Christine couldn't remember how many times the car had flipped over, or how long it had skidded. She remembered the hard jolt from the car hitting a tree on Sean's side. Christine struggled to stay awake as her boyfriend choked on his own blood, strange gurgling noises emanating from his mouth. When she reached for him, all she saw was blood and twisted metal and an arm, twitching frantically. Then the darkness over took her.

A cool breeze wisped through the trees, sending a shiver up Christine's spine. She rubbed her arms, thankful she had no major cuts, but realizing that it was getting cold. She brushed a strand of her brown hair out of her eye, still reflecting on the accident. What had made them go off the road in the first place?

Then she remembered. It was the girl that appeared in the road. She was dressed normally enough, with her white vest on and sleeveless orange turtleneck. The skirt was a little short for Christine's taste, but it didn't look like anything had happened. Until she turned around with blood streaming down her mouth and chest. The expression on her face pleaded for help, but Sean had to swerve to miss hitting her.

After that, Christine only recalled the smell of burning rubber, along with the feeling of vertigo as the car tumbled down the street. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the windshield shattered after the first flip. The deafening noise of metal giving way against concrete seemed to resound over and over again. Christine only remotely heard the tires blow out as the car flipped over for the third or fourth time. By the sixth time, she had vomited reflexively and went into slight shock.

As the memory came back to her, Christine held herself tighter. She suddenly glanced down the street for the girl. Where was she now? Didn't she see that she had caused an accident? Didn't she know that she was responsible for Sean's death?

Anger began to over take Christine as she searched through the darkness for the girl. The pain was subsiding and her head wasn't pounding anymore. She slowly climbed to her feet, making sure there were no broken bones or traumatic injuries. From what she could tell, she was fine with the exception of minor cuts and bruises.

Christine thought about going back to the car, but there was so much blood. There was no way Sean could still be alive. It made no sense to revisit the wreckage and get herself all worked up again.

She suddenly felt insecure and more alone than she ever had in her life. Here she was, on a dark, remote highway with a slim chance of anyone passing by. They hadn't seen another car within the last four hours of driving.

The only thing left was to head in the direction they were going. The sign back several hundred feet had indicated that they were coming upon a town. Christine thought that it was strange that she couldn't even find it on the map they had. Christine, already unsettled before the trip ever started, felt uneasy about that small fact, despite talking with Sean about Silent Hill. It seemed popular enough. Maybe she would be able to get some help there.

She took one last look at the car, tears welling up in her eyes as she saw the splattered blood all over the front of the car.

"Sean," she whispered. Christine composed herself and began to head down the road toward Silent Hill.

II.

Trey Harrison didn't like crowds. His parents tried to avoid crowds as much as possible and had somehow passed the same sentiments down to their son. He wasn't as uncomfortable as his parents seemed to be in crowds, but this crowd wasn't the ordinary Saturday mall goers.

He was watching the ceremony surreptitiously with both disgust and curiosity. Many people were gathered in the town square, most of which Trey had never seen before. However, they all were united there for one purpose, something strange and abstract that Trey wanted to have no part of.

The crowd stood naked, hands thrown toward the sky, chanting something incomprehensible to him with wild expressions on their face. The crowd consisted of mostly adults, but Trey swore that he recognized some of the people there as students at the school.

Even though it was early evening, a heavy fog had settled over the city and the night was darker than usual. Trey wasn't the one to jump to conclusions, but something told him that the strange ceremony had something to do with the weather.

He reflected back to the point when he agreed with Joel to come with him to the festival. It seemed like any other festival with booths, activities, and families roaming everywhere. Earlier in the evening, something had happened. Trey wasn't sure what it was, but it was like everything had changed at once. He had somehow lost track of Joel and the rest of his friends, and his unfamiliarity with the town didn't help.

Somehow, he had stumbled upon this disturbing, but enthralling scene of people with their hands in the air, possibly calling out to some higher deity.

As he watched, Trey suddenly couldn't believe his eyes. The townspeople were morphing and contorting into something horrible right before his eyes.

"What is going on?" he said as he stood from his hiding place. He began to back away from the mass of screams. It seemed like they were more like screams of pleasure than the expected pain.

Within seconds, the crowd had turned into something that was definitely not human. Some of them had taken odd shapes, their limbs distorted, faces non-existent, and some of them had merged into other grotesque amalgamations.

Trey backed up some more, making sure not to bring attention to himself. He slipped away into an alleyway then broke out into a full sprint. Thinking the street was dangerous, Trey ducked into a place with Neely's Bar in sizable letters above the door.

The place was much darker than Trey would have thought, despite the evening orange sky. The bar looked as though no one had set foot in it in years. Newspapers and trash were strewn across the floor and on the bar. The windows were covered with various newspapers too, blocking out any kind of sun or streetlight from entering. The thing that disturbed Trey the most was the smeared writing that was on the newspaper. It looked as though there was something written there, but it had been haphazardly wiped away.

Trey dared to venture deeper into the bar, not really looking for something, but feeling that something was drawing him in.

He treaded lightly over the floor, the image of the morphed crowd still vivid in his mind.

III.

Stacy tried not to breathe. She felt the sweat forming down her back and under her arms, making her feel like fidgeting, but she didn't dare move a muscle. Her vision was obscured by her hiding place, and every so often, the attacker would disappear from her sight, only to reappear carrying another body.

A wave of nausea washed over her, but she didn't succumb to it. She couldn't if she didn't want to end up like her friends. Everything had happened so fast, she could barely make out what had actually happened.

Stacy Aspen was one of the most attractive girls at the school. In turn, it was no coincidence that she was invited to every party, every get together, and every hang out session that the other students had. The guys invited her just to try to get at her, while the girls hoped that she would attract those same guys and they could take advantage of them. Stacy was only a pawn in both of their games, and was fully aware of it. Still, she loved the attention and popularity, so she pretended as if she didn't know.

Her roommate, Becky, fussed at her all the time about it. Stacy simply brushed the girl off, calling her naïve and also inferring that she was jealous.

Tonight had been typical of any other night. Todd Hartford had invited her over to just "hang out" with him and his friends. The simple talking had turned into a card game, and then beer appeared in the room somehow. Stacy knew it was another attempt to seduce her, so she didn't drink much. Simply giggling a lot and being more flirtatious than usual gave the façade that she had just as much as them to drink.

When the lights suddenly went out, the laughing and talking suddenly stopped. Todd immediately laughed it off, saying the college probably forgot to pay its light bill. Everyone laughed, but Stacy could hear the suppressed alarm.

Brad, one of Todd's friends, said that he would check it out. Stacy objected, but Brad immediately made a joke regarding some horror movie and tried to scare her before leaving the room.

It wasn't like her to get so worked up over a simple thing as the lights being out, but something was different. She felt nervous and edgy, which was an unusual feeling for her. Stacy prided herself on her composed nature, even in the most of stressful situations.

When Brad's voice rang out in a horrible scream, Stacy was frozen in place. His scream was pain-filled and agonizing. She immediately knew he wasn't joking. It was like she knew that something had caused the lights to go out, and now it was after them.

Nick and Todd both stood, as crossed the room to the door, but it burst inward, Brad's body flying through the air, landing on Ryan who had stayed back, probably just as scared as Stacy.

She didn't know whether it was instinct or an unplanned reaction, but she immediately dropped to the floor and slid under the bed. It wasn't the best of hiding places, but for now it would have to do.

Almost immediately, she heard the sound of something heavy dragging across the floor then Todd screamed out. His voice stopped abruptly and the sound of a body falling to the floor seemed to resound throughout the room.

Stacy stopped breathing. Ryan screamed, probably at the sight of Brad's body coupled with whatever had happened to Todd. The other three voices mixed in with his. Things were thrown and smashed against some mortal threat.

Stacy couldn't move. Her body had gone numb when she made out the heavy blood stained boots in the dim light. They clomped past the bed toward the other people in the room.

The screams made Stacy a little more comfortable. They told her that the others were fighting, but when silence fell over the room, she knew that they had lost the battle.

The boots walked by the bed again and stopped. Had the attacker found her? Stacy felt like her bladder was going to burst and sweat ran down her face.

Ryan's body fell to the floor, his blue eyes peering right into Stacy's, pleading for her help with dimming focus.

She moved slightly and covered her mouth. Stacy had actually liked Ryan. He was funny and never tried to really hit on her. Now, he sat dead only a foot in front of her. A boot suddenly crashed down, crushing his head like a pumpkin. Blood and other bits of human meatiness landed on her face, slowly running down her cheek and forehead.

Her eyes were wide with shock, and her breath was caught in her throat.

Now, she waited in paralyzed fear as the attacker dragged the bodies out of the room. She was sure that the attacker had taken all the bodies out of the room, but she still waited for what seemed like hours before finally moving a muscle.

She quietly and cautiously scooted from under the bed and stood slowly, surveying the room for any other threats. The first thing that caught her eye was the noticeable blood splattered over the bed, desk, and table. She held herself as her legs began to buckle. Stacy thought she was going to faint, but shook her head and blinked hard to keep from falling.

It was then that she noticed a folded note on the bed. Blood was splattered on it, but otherwise, it was neatly folded in the center of the bed.

Going against all the alarms going off in her head, she reached for the note and snatched it off the bed, presuming there was some kind of trap attached to it.

Satisfied that she was safe, she opened the note slowly, glancing around the room again for any sign of someone else being there. When her eyes finally returned to the note, all of the blood drained from her face.

YOU'RE NEXT.

Paralyzed, she let the note slip from her hands, as she heard the closet behind her creak open.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami. All other characters are fictional.

I want to thank everyone for the awesome reviews for the first chapter. I've been busy with school, but I also was trying to take some time to get together a worthy second chapter.

Justin Valentine: I hope this chapter continues the trend of the first

Zero: I hope the dorm wasn't too scary when you got back

Rodarian: I appreciate the suggestions. I definitely will do my best to keep the intensity up. I will have some of the familiar locales of Silent Hill in the story as well as some new ones. As for Michael's sin, at this point it appears that he is just a victim of circumstance. His story will come to light during some of the future chapters.

Hello Captain: Glad that you like it. It seems that you've written a lot of stories, which are really good, so a compliment from you is quite flattering

Wrath: Anything I can do to please...

Random1377: Hopefully, this chapter answers your question

Ryko Sill: Here's the continuation...let me know what you think!


	3. Room 431

I.

The feeling of vulnerability slowly overtook Michael as he treaded softly down the darkened hallway. He had just left his own room, horrified at the prospect that there was something going on that was far beyond him. He was also coming to grips with the fact that his roommate was more than likely dead. But why? What killed his roommate? Furthermore, where the hell was everyone?

After the episode in his own room, he was reluctant to venture into any other room, for fear of witnessing, or at least hearing another gruesome death. The one exception was the room to which he had the key for: 431. He had found it in his closet along with a small note.

It seemed that the power always went out at the most critical time it was needed. This time was no exception. The darkness loomed over Michael creating an air of fear and intensity that he couldn't shake. Michael swore that the shadows themselves were alive, waiting for him to drop his guard once so they could swallow him up in their dark evil. He knew his imagination was soaring, probably making the situation much worse than what it was. Still, with everything that had happened, he couldn't be too careful.

When he finally arrived at the room, he was glad that he hadn't run into any more unexpected trouble, but he figured it was only a matter of time. Glancing to the left and right, Michael then inspected the door.

There were no special markings on it, no cryptic messages engraved mysteriously, no signs of bleeding (Michael figured that in a situation like this, it would be one of the obvious occurrences), no nothing.

Michael pulled the key out of his pocket and looked at it, as if it would give him some glimpse into the room. The numbers 431 were scratched into the key, but there was nothing else the key showed him as he turned it over in his hands.

Everything in his body was screaming at him not to go into the room. Something just felt wrong. However, logically, he knew there was no where else to go, at least not at this point. It seemed as though everything had been turned upside down in a fraction of a second, and now wasn't the time for him to sit and shiver in a corner. But why him? What exactly was he supposed to do?

As Michael ran through the events of the evening in his mind, he saw no previous indication of anything like this happening. He simply woke up, talked to Todd and showered. Brent, his roommate who had probably met some horrible fate, was gone already when Michael got back from the shower. Michael went to the security office, sitting in for stupid Lisa, who had once again, gotten her schedule confused. It was then that strange things began to happen, but what was it that triggered the occurrences?

Maybe the answer to that was in this room, 431. But what made this room so special? Why is it that every other door was locked, but he was left a key to this one? These questions ran through Michael's mind as he turned the key, unlatching the bolt.

He stuck the key back in his pocket, suddenly feeling a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. The phone number! Michael remembered it as he fished it out of his pocket. Smoothing out the crumpled piece of paper, he read the number again, and pulled out his phone. He typed the number in quickly. 452-555-0931.

He waited before pressing the talk button. It was strange enough that monsters were randomly appearing that seemed to have the worst intentions in mind. But now, messages were being left seemingly for him? It was strange, but he figured the answer to that and all his questions would be found out in due time.

He pressed talk, but nothing happened.

"Of course not. I don't have any service," Michael muttered. What was he thinking? Well, maybe since other weird things were going on, the phone would actually work for this number and call up someone who could help. Yeah, right.

Michael decided to store the number instead, so he wouldn't forget to use it, just in case his service returned. As soon as he saved the number, the phone vibrated as if someone was calling. He studied the screen to see if anything had changed. The words "Looking for Service" still blared out at him, meaning that no one was calling him.

Well, at least it was the strange occurrence he was looking for. He looked at the phone and it stopped vibrating.

"Weird," trying to come up with yet another explanation, he shoved the phone back in his pocket, content to leave it alone for now. It began to vibrate softly in his pocket, then much harder.

Michael was about to pull it out when he saw the monster lumbering toward him. It was the same creature from earlier, or at least one that looked similar. It moved purposefully, shuffling down the hallway, as if directed by some higher power to accomplish some task.

He regarded the creature with an interested disgust this time. Earlier, he was too scared to leave his eyes on the monster for a fraction of a second, but now the monster seemed to be less threatening.

It looked as though a thick skin had somehow grown over its upper body and wrapped it up, with the exception of its mouth. The monster writhed within the biological trap, looking as though it was trying to free itself.

Deciding that he couldn't avoid a confrontation, Michael quickly aimed his gun at it, hoping that it would be smart enough to be scared off by the threat of being shot. Again, logic took over, telling him that if it was a monster, then it would not be coerced by conventional weapons.

It was much easier this time to squeeze the trigger. Michael shot a few rounds into the monster, the bullets sounding like they were sinking into wet meat. After six rounds, the monster fell forward wiggling spastically on the ground until it wallowed in its own pool of blood.

Michael turned his nose up at the sight of the creature finally lying still. He noticed that his phone began to vibrate more softly until it stopped, in time with the creature's death.

"The phone reacts to monsters?" he said pulling out the phone briefly. "Weird."

Putting the phone back in his pocket and gun in hand, Michael turned his attention back to the door, opened it, and stepped into the room.

Michael wasn't surprised at the condition of the normally clean dorm room. The furniture was overturned and the personality of the room was gone, replaced by a chilling evil at sent shivers up Michael's spine. The carpet and walls looked wet with unidentifiable stains, and the curtains were drawn, immersing the room in darkness.

He ventured farther into the room, weary of the common hiding places for monsters, like the closet and under the bed. It seemed almost childish to think that way, but then again, children accept what they see with their eyes, not what society tells them they should and should not see. Obviously, this was a time to take it back and use the raw interpretation of a child to hopefully get through this situation.

The light fell on a book that was lying on an overturned chair, almost as if it had been placed there for Michael to find. He glanced around, unsure if he should even read it or not. He stepped close, but stayed far enough away to move quickly if the book suddenly attacked him. It was a silly idea, but then again, there were monsters running around in the hallway, a book could be just as deadly.

Michael shook his head in spite of himself and leaned over the book, shining the light on the pages.

There was only one page with writing on it.

THE DAY OF RECKONING HAS ARRIVED. YOUR RETURN IS INEVITABLE, AND WE SHALL CELEBRATE THE REBIRTH OF PARADISE.

"What is this?" Michael said. He wondered if this was actually from someone in the dorms, or if it was another strange item placed there for him to find. He glanced around for any thing else that immediately caught his eye. Only spilled white powder on the ground. He followed the trail to a small bag that lay in perfect condition on the ground.

"What in the world?" Michael said as he picked up the small bag. The first thing he thought of was cocaine, or some other narcotic. Then his mind flashed to the other local drug he had heard of, White Claudia. He was sure that some of the students had gotten a hold of it, but for what? When Michael read about it, it was only used in some kind of cult ritual or something.

He couldn't be sure though. Maybe he would be able to get someone to take a look at it, if he ever found anyone else.

He also noticed a strange symbol on the floor, which Michael immediately related to the powder and the strange note.

"There's something going on here," Michael deduced. He studied the symbol for a few moments before hearing the click of the door being bolted. Michael immediately ran to the door turning the knob forcefully but to no avail. He looked for the lock, which was supposed to be on the inside, but there was nothing there. Michael didn't recall seeing any kind of bolt outside the door when he came in either.

"Let me out!" he yelled. Someone had obviously locked him inside of the room, and he was determined to find out who. He banged on the door only a few more times, realizing that he may be attracting more monsters with all of his noise.

He then remembered a trick his friends would do, just to be daring. There were windows on either side of the room, opposite the door. It was the same for every room, so the windows were right next to each other. If the window next door was open, he could easily slip into the next room. Only problem was that Michael was afraid of heights.

He crossed over to the window, which opened with ease. Reaching out, without looking down, he pushed the other window. To his surprise, it slid open.

Sweat began to form on Michael's hands as he realized what he had to do. But he would only be outside of the room for maybe two seconds before he was inside again. Surely, he could do that. He had overcome much larger challenges during his stay here—surely this obstacle wouldn't get the better of him.

Leaning out of the window, he kept his eyes looking toward his goal—the other window. A slight push opened the window fully. Michael was glad that someone had left it open. When he got ready to make the move, his eyes automatically shot downward. Michael was dizzied by the height and had to steady himself.

An immediate fear gripped him, setting his nerves on edge. His knees threatened to stop functioning and sweat threatened to pour down his back.

A small breath was all he needed. Michael swung around the small part of the wall, and grasped into the other room.

A scream suddenly rang out, which scared Michael. He lost his balance slightly, and grasped onto the window ledge. His phone was vibrating hard, further distracting him. Just like he thought, he was probably stepping into some kind of trap. Still, he couldn't bear the thought of turning back...not now.

Reeling from the fact that he was so close to falling, he pulled himself into the room, falling onto the floor.

Michael recovered quickly, remembering that a scream had rang out. He looked up to see Stacy Aspen pinned against the wall, a large figure holding her two feet off the ground by her throat.

Michael scrambled to his feet and pulled out his gun. "Let her go!" He suddenly realized how stupid he sounded. Like this big monster would actually drop her and surrender. He figured it was just one of those automatic lines that people used in situations like these. Well, situations something like this.

The pale skinned figure, turned toward Michael. His eyes looked painfully sewn shut, fresh blood still seeping from the holes. Its nose was cut off, exposing a bloody, dark sinus area. The mouth appeared to have the lips and cheeks cut away by a blunt object. The skin was ragged and loose handing over his exposed, sharp teeth.

Michael's eyes surveyed the thing's exposed arms as his flashlight danced over the scene. The veins on the arms were transparent as he could see dark blood pumping furiously. The veins were raised above the skin though, almost appearing that the creature's skin was inside out.

Michael stepped forward, hoping to not give away his own fear. He immediately took careful aim and fired, hitting the monster in the arm.

Stacy screamed again, clenching her eyes shut. Michael shot off two more rounds, hitting his target in the leg and once in the midsection. It grunted and then hurled Stacy across the room. He was barely able to break her fall as they both tumbled back and hit the floor. Michael and Stacy both scrambled to their feet to catch a glimpse of the creature retreating, closing the door behind it.

Michael and Stacy were breathing hard, then finally looked at each other.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked. He then cursed himself for another one of those unnecessary, automatic lines that people use in critical situations.

Stacy nodded, obviously shaken by her encounter. She looked around the room for some sign of the rest of the people that were previously in the room, but all she could find was splatters of blood and other unidentifiable chunks of what appeared to be human parts.

Her eyes finally returned to Michael, who was still looking at her for some sort of response.

"I—I think so," her voice was light and shaky, betraying her fear and confusion. "What—what was that—that thing?"

Michael stood letting his flashlight dance around the room. "I really don't know. Everything's gone crazy—"

Stacy looked at him as if he had just spoken in another language. "What?" her voice was high pitched and ragged.

Michael sighed and turned to her, making eye contact. "I don't know what any of this is. I was sitting in the security office when this creature appeared. Next thing I knew, I had this gun and other weird stuff started happening."

Stacy seemed to accept his answer, even though she couldn't believe how easily he had drove the monster away with no sort of surprise. She stood, and rubbed her arms.

"Were you here with anyone else?"

Stacy looked at him, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper, "They're all dead."

Michael felt uneasy all of the sudden. It was like those three words carried the weight of the world. Hearing that other people were being victimized by whatever was going on was disturbing, making Michael think that somehow, everyone except the two of them may have been victimized.

"Look, I know you don't know me all that well, but maybe we should stick together. You're the first normal person I've seen since all this started."

"You're Mike, right?"

He nodded. "We're in the same Anthropology class."

Stacy nodded quickly, recognizing him. Never in a million years did she think that the kid who sat two seats down from her in class would now be saving her from a monster. "Is there a way out of here?"

"I don't know. Maybe if we get out of here, we can figure something out," Michael replied. He walked toward the door when Stacy rushed up behind him.

"Are you going to go out there?" the words rushed from her mouth in disbelief. Her hands grasped his arm reflexively in an effort to keep him there.

Michael tried to be reassuring. "There's no where else to go. Plus, that thing may be on its way back soon."

Stacy's mind vividly recalled the rough, pulsating skin of the creature, the cold grip, the hot, rancid breath—it was something that she didn't want to experience again.

Michael nodded to her to make sure she was okay with leaving the room. Stacy nodded back in reply as Michael opened the door slowly.

His eyes scanned the hallway before venturing out with Stacy gripping his shoulder almost too tightly. Michael hoped that they would make it out of the school, which seemed to have turned into a haven for various monstrosities.

Again, his mind wandered to why everything had been turned up-side down. And somehow, he knew that eventually, they would come face-to-face with the cause of all the trouble. A sudden feeling of dread over took Michael as he led Stacy through the dark, foreboding hallway.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami. All other characters are fictional.

I want to thank everyone for the awesome reviews for both of the chapters. School has calmed down a bit, getting past mid-terms and all. I hope you enjoyed the third chapter.

Elvenmagyk1978: I hope you like the new chapter!

Quezacotl1: I appreciate the review. Hopefully, this new chapter keeps the scares coming.

Rodarian: The characters will definitely have their individual focus. And eventually they will find each other, for better or worse. Thank you for the review!

Zero: Drunk girls definitely can be scary at times...glad you liked the chapter!

Kaworu85: I appreciate the advertisement for my story and you are right, people usually do base whether a story is good or not based on the number of reviews. I'm glad that the stories are to your liking. Let me know what you think of this chapter

Wrath: Yes, the story does occur during/after Silent Hill 3. Judging from Heather's appearance, you can tell that something went wrong. That will probably be covered in the next chapter though.


	4. New Resolve

I.

Heather Mason cursed herself for not killing Claudia when she had the chance. Not only had Claudia been responsible for her father's death, but now, she was going to be responsible for a lot more, trying to "birth" that—that thing. The memory of what had just happened a few moments ago replayed over and over again.

Her eyes dropped down to Vincent and the dagger sticking out of his chest. He was clearly dead, but Heather really felt indifferent about it. He was strange and cryptic, never making his real intentions clear. Even in the last few moments of his life, he was still confusing but calculating. Vincent wasn't a person that could be trusted. All Heather knew was that he was just as twisted and warped as Claudia.

After Claudia killed Vincent, Heather remembered something her father gave her. It was a pendant, but there was a red jewel inside. Somehow, she knew that this red jewel would help her with the thing growing inside of her.

Heather quickly swallowed the pill, and almost immediately, her body rejected the fetus. It was repelled through her mouth, where it landed on the floor. She thought it was the end of it, until Claudia took the thing and put it in her own system.

Now, she had fallen through a hole in the floor, taking the fetus with her.

"What the hell was she thinking?' Heather asked herself. She couldn't believe that someone would be that determined in an obviously sick cause.

Before she could make a move, Heather was suddenly blasted out of the nightmare she was in to the outskirts of Silent Hill. The bitter night air nipped at her exposed legs and arms, but her body continued as if it couldn't feel the cold.

Even though her thoughts were running at a mile a minute, her body was sluggish and in a state of shock. She felt as though she were making her way through a thick fog...thicker than anything she had seen in Silent Hill. Her body shambled along to some destination only unknown to her.

Heather was only slightly aware of the car that swerved to miss her. The sound of crunching metal and breaking glass eluded her as she continued to shamble into the darkness...away from Silent Hill.

A blinding flash of pain burst in Heather's head. She immediately snapped out of the self-induced daze, clutching her head and falling to her knees. A grunt escaped her lips as she bent over, tears stinging her eyes.

The pain subsided as quickly as it had come. When she opened them again, she looked at the street, only to see a vast chasm stopping her from leaving Silent Hill.

A light, cool breeze ruffled her hair, which somehow soothed her nerves. It also brought her back to reality. Was her daze Claudia's doing? Was Claudia trying to kill her? These questions couldn't be answered.

Heather's whole life had been turned upside down in a span of a few hours. Not only had she been an instrument in Claudia's sick plans to revive some evil deity, she found out about her fractured past, and her father had been killed. Not only that, but the only person she could even begin to trust was still injured at the amusement park, waiting for her.

A fleeting thought of throwing herself into the chasm whisked through her mind and was discarded in a flash. There was no way that Heather was going to allow Claudia or whoever else succeeds in whatever they were trying to do.

The details were still a bit hazy. Vincent had only complicated things, and Claudia spoke in riddles every time she encountered her. Still, Heather was able to make out some of the plot of the mystery she was involuntarily involved in. It didn't make it any easier though.

Heather slowly climbed to her feet, suddenly concerned about the car that had swerved. She presumed it had crashed a ways back, but she couldn't be sure. Reaching into her pocket, she found the handgun that had been mysteriously left for her on the floor of one of the mall stores.

She shed the white vest she had been wearing and pulled the sleeves of her rust orange sweater to her mid-forearm. Heather set her eyes on the fog in front of her and made her way back to Silent Hill.

II.

_"It's just a bar,"_ Trey told himself, but an uneasy feeling grew in his stomach, and crawled all over his skin.

He was right. Neely's Bar, which was serving as Trey's hiding place for the time being was a bar. During the tourist months, it was quite a popular place with friendly bartenders and cute waitresses. It was one of the more popular night spots that Silent Hill had to offer for its guests.

Now, it seemed as though the town was offering Trey its worst. The bar was desolate and dark, the mirror covered by tattered newspaper. Chairs and tables were overturned, as if the patrons were running away from the same thing Trey was running from. The air was still and Trey could swear that there was something else in there with him.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of his discomfort, but he was met with darkness in every corner and space. Only a hint of light from the outside made it through the newspaper, only to be cast on the floor directly by the window.

Upon closer inspection, Trey realized that the newspaper covering the window was actually from today's newspaper. A weight suddenly came over his as he realized that either the people had just made it out of the bar alive, or something much more sinister was going on.

He thought of simply leaving the creepy place, but he remembered the monsters that were lurking out there. Surely, they wouldn't have any good intentions for him if they found him. But he couldn't just sit here. He had to get to a car and get back to the school or as far away from all of this as possible.

Taking one last glance around the room, he saw exactly what he needed...a weapon. He grabbed a wooden plank that was sitting against the cash register, as if waiting for someone like him to come along. It was light, but heavy enough to do some damage if needed. Plus, it had three nails sticking through the end, so he could definitely incapacitate anything he came across.

Trey took a deep breath, steadied himself, took a few practice swings with the plank, and headed back out into the street.

III.

Her boots lightly treaded over the street. Heather's dark eyes darted back and forth, searching for any movement that would let her know a monster was in the area. It didn't help that the night was quiet. Too quiet. It was now that Heather noticed there were no normal night sounds. Crickets chirping, swaying of trees, breeze ruffling the soft grass—none of those sounds echoed through the night. It was like time had stopped for the horrific town of Silent Hill.

The car appeared through the fog, overturned and wrecked. A flash of the car driving toward her and swerving came to her mind and she realized that she was the cause of the accident.

Heather jogged to the vehicle, only to be met by a pool of blood seeping from the driver's side.

She realized that she had seen so many strange things on this night that another pool of blood didn't really bother her. But the fact that it was a person and she was responsible for their death really upset her.

In stepping closer, Heather caught a glimpse of something.

VI.

Christine had no map and no idea of where she was going. The tree line on either side of the road seemed to be endless, the fog ever-thickening. She could swear that she heard unearthly growls and grunts, but the fog hid whatever it was. Her pace was quick, and she didn't slow down for any reason.

But then, before she could even react, she was knocked down from behind. She hit the street hard, no time for her to even scream. Christine turned toward her assailant, but saw no one directly behind her.

A growl caught her attention and she glanced skyward. She gasped and scrambled to her feet. A creature, that's the only thing she could think to call it, was flapping its wings, hovering in mid-air. Her eyes were denying the thing's existence, because she had a hard time focusing in on any distinctive features of the thing. It was like it was constantly changing its appearance, too fast for her eyes to keep up.

It only took her a moment to realize the creature was diving for her again. She spun on her heel and tried to run away, but tripped in the process. The creature whizzed only inches from her head, growling and cawing right over her. It soared into the air again, giving Christine enough time to get up again and try to escape.

The creature dove at her again, but this time, changed direction at the last second and caught her from the front, knocking her onto the ground. It wasted no time in pouncing on the defenseless girl.

She screamed. Christine flailed her arms, trying to get the featureless creature off of her, but she could hear its growls, hear teeth snapping together, feel hot musty breath nipping at her cheeks, its weight almost crushing her frame as it tried to get at her.

Christine focused her attacks at the creature's head, and against a dog or some small zoo animal, she may have defended herself well, but this creature kept attacking, getting closer and closer to her face.

When the gunshot rang out, Christine didn't know what to think. Her body had taken over and self-preservation was its top priority. Her hands kept swinging against the creature, who was just as stunned as she was over the gunshot. Another shot rang out, and Christine heard the fleshy impact of the bullet from behind the creature.

One well-timed punch sent the creature to the side, and Christine rolled in the opposite direction and covered her head as three more shots rang out. The silence after the third shot was deafening. Christine looked up and saw the flying creature lying on its side, crushing one of its own wings, wiggling from the damage it had taken.

Though the scene was disgusting, Christine still looked on, trying to classify the creature into something she could comprehend—something she had seen before. When a pair of brown boots came into view, it caught her by surprise. It was even more surprising when one of the boots rose into the air and slammed down on the creature's head, splattering creature brains, or whatever was inside of its head, on the street.

Christine followed the boots to a pair of legs that disappeared under a tan skirt. The top of the skirt was lost under a rust covered sweater with two arms hanging down. One of the hands attached to those arms had a gun, which Christine presumed had been the one firing only moments ago. Her eyes continued up the sweater to a neck, then a face, which she had no trouble in distinguishing features on.

The girl standing before Christine looked worn and tired. The slightly dark circles under her eyes told Christine that much, but it was the calm, stoic expression that was etched into her face that told here this girl had seen something far worse than this creature.

Christine quickly rose to her feet, feeling queasy. She struggled to find something to say, but couldn't find the right words. She recognized the girl as the same one that caused them to run off the road. On one hand, she was angry and blamed her for her boyfriend's death. On the other hand, she had just saved her from being eaten, absorbed, assimilated, or whatever terrible plan the creature had in store for her.

"Thanks," Christine finally said, casting her eyes downward.

"You don't belong here. Get out while you still can," Heather flatly said. She checked her gun, glanced to the left and right, and began on her way.

Christine was both confused and annoyed by the girl's attitude.

"Hey, wait a minute," she ran up behind Heather and followed her closely. "What is going on here?"

Heather sighed. "Look, there are things going on here that you couldn't understand, and I don't have the time to explain them. I have to find someone."

"I'm not going to stay here by myself. You—you caused us to run off the road. My boyfriend—he—"

"Look, I don't know what happened. All I know is that I have to find Douglas and Claudia," she trailed off, the night's events running through her mind. "Find a place to hide, and say there. Running around this city will do nothing but get you killed."

Christine was even more confused. "What is it with this town? Why are there monsters running around here?"

"I don't have time to explain it to you," Heather turned from the girl and headed in her original direction.

Christine followed her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not staying anywhere by myself. I'm going with you."

Heather sighed. She didn't have time to baby-sit, nor play heroine for anyone else. "I can't protect the both of us."

"I can protect myself," Christine's voice faltered, giving away her own insecurity and fear.

"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you. Just don't get in my way," Heather's voice remained tinged with an unemotional edge.

Christine knew that staying by herself wasn't a good idea, but she wondered if going with this girl was any better. She followed closely, but not too close.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami. All other characters are fictional.

I know everyone probably thought I fell off the face of the earth. This semester was particularly rough, but I got my highest GPA, so it was worth it. Thanks for all of the awesome reviews, I have much more free time, so there will definitely be more postings!

Superslacker: Thanks for the review. I'll do my best to keep the characters as real as possible while keeping them in an unreal situation

Crimson Alessa: Sorry for the long absence. You know how school is. Hopefully, this chapter keeps up the suspense

Rich: My wonderful editor, thanks for the review. You're always too kind.

Elvenmagyk1978: I hope this chapter is as good as the rest...it's a little slower in terms of action, but I promise, it will pick up next chapter.

Kaworu85: Hopefully, this answered a little bit of what happened to Trey. I'm glad you liked the cell phone too. If I were in a similar situation, I wouldn't pick up some random radio. A cell phone seems so much more logical. You'll definitely be seeing more personality from Michael as well as from Stacy. Sorry you didn't like her too much. I'm sure she'll be better in the next chapter.

Rodarian: I'm glad that you like the feel of the story. I was going for something original, but keeping true to the Silent Hill series. The rest of the characters will meet up with each other as well, but not necessarily under the best of circumstances.

Snikers: Glad you like the story so far...I am to please.


	5. Death Comes to Thee

I.

"I'm not going in there!" Stacy's expression was as defiant as the tone in her voice. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, a clear sign that she had made her decision and was sticking to it.

Michael sighed, wondering why after everything that had happened, she was acting this way. Michael first saved Stacy from some kind of creature, which Michael presumed was still lurking around somewhere. Since then, they had looked to each other for support through what had turned into a gruesome nightmare for the two of them.

Now, they were standing in front of a men's restroom on the second floor. Michael had assumed that they were going to stay together no matter where they went, but obviously, Stacy didn't feel the same way.

"Stacy, there's nobody in there," Michael exasperatedly stated. "Hopefully," Michael added, suddenly weary of going into the bathroom by himself. He had come to find solace in having another person with him. And now, the thought of having to venture into the unknown alone kept nipping at the forefront of his mind.

Stacy's expression was unchanging as she spoke. "I'm not going into a guy's bathroom. They're smelly and gross. Ugh!"

Michael had to laugh. "I can't believe that with everything we've been through up to this point, you won't go in there."

"I have my limits."

Michael thought about just opting not to go into the bathroom and continue on. However, he felt his phone vibrate when they passed by. It was a sign that there was a monster in there, or maybe some other clue to what was happening.

"Look, stay right here," Michael said, looking directly in her eyes to get his point across. "If you see anything, you'll have to get over yourself and go in there. It shouldn't take me but two seconds in there, I promise. I have to see if there's something that can help us."

Stacy nodded, suddenly seeming more reasonable. "If anything happens, I'll scream."

"You're going to have to do more than that," Michael said to her as he pushed open the door of the bathroom. He disappeared behind the closing door, leaving Stacy in the hallway. She gave the door a disgusted look then leaned against the wall, hoping Michael would come out in the two seconds he promised.

II.

The priest kneeled by his bedside deep in prayer, his knees raw from the hardwood floor and his legs asleep. His eyes were clenched closed and he was feverishly repeating a prayer that was taught to him when he was but a child.

He hoped his prayers would be answered, he wished that the god he served would finally make his appearance.

When the creature hissed from the corner of the room, he turned slowly to face the being. His face contorted, not into fear, but into an expression of bliss. He staggered to his feet, grabbing the gun from under his pillow.

"Yes, dear lord, I will serve you!"

He shot the creature repeatedly until it fell. He didn't care about the dark blood that seeped onto the floor, the meaty chunks that had flown off the creature when the bullets ripped through it, nor the squealing noises the creature on the ground was making.

All he was concerned with was that his god had finally spoken to him and sent him a sacrificial lamb. The priest crossed the room and stomped its head, stopping it from moving again.

His prayers had finally been answered. Everything he believed in, everything he worshipped suddenly became real with the appearance of the creature. He had been chosen, chosen to be a servant for his deity.

Thomas Halpern almost became lost in the sudden rapture he felt, but recollected himself. He had to prepare—a sacrifice and the throne room for his lord to have. Yes, he could create it right here in his church. Even though it was slightly outside of the city, surely his lord would be satisfied if it was set up properly.

Tom smiled, immediately making plans to make a sacrifice.

III.

Trey was moving down the street surreptitiously, staying in as many shadows as he could. It helped that the clear day had turned overcast and an unnaturally thick fog had settled over the town. Growl and other strange noises floated from all sides, but the fog hid whatever was making the sounds, much to Trey's relief. He wasn't the type that had to investigate everything or know what was going on. He simply wanted to at least get back to the school.

Passing by a gas station, Trey became aware that something was following him. He spun around to see something that resembled a dog but had horribly wrong features. The first thing that struck Trey was the vertically opening and closing mouth. Large drops of saliva seeped out of its mouth, making a trail as the creature walked slowly around Trey. Its body was perversely sleek and athletic looking. Exposed muscle and torn flesh glistened in the hazy light of the darkening day.

Trey felt sweat trickle down his back. His hands tensed around the wood plank and he tried to take a slight step back. The creature sensed this and took two steps toward Trey.

It was then that Trey knew he was not going to get out of this battle unscathed.

He shifted his weight, just as the creature leaped directly at his chest. Trey moved to the left, swinging the plank at the same time. He caught the creature in the side, disrupting its athletic leap in the air. The creature stumbled on all fours, turning quickly to attack Trey again. The recoil of the strike threw Trey off for a moment, but he was unexpectedly ready for the next pass by the creature. Trey wiped the sweat off his brow hurriedly. He repositioned his hands on the wood plank he had picked up from Neely's Bar.

The creature leaped once again for Trey. This time, he caught it right on the side of its head. It crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Trey stood his ground, breathing heavily, part from fatigue and part from fear. He stood there for what seemed like an hour, waiting for the slightest move from the unconscious creature, but it never occurred. He gathered his wits and quickly strode away from the scene. Trey continued to glance over his shoulder and side to side, hoping he had no more surprises waiting for him in the fog.

IV.

The bathrooms were the same on all six floors of the dormitory. There was a larger bathroom and a smaller bathroom, which alternated at every intersection of the dormitory. Michael was in one of the larger bathrooms; eight stalls lined the left side of the wall, two sinks, a garbage can with a paper towel dispenser above it, and four urinals lined the right wall in that order. The bathroom was in the shape of a U, so around the corner, there were two sinks on the right and a bench with towel hooks above it. A large mirror was above the sinks and another one was on the wall opposite the shower. There were six shower stalls, three on each side.

Michael didn't particularly like some of the bathrooms. Even though they all had the same general setup, some had been remodeled, while others still had the same look as they did when the school was first built in the late 1950's. This was one of the older bathrooms. The light above didn't work well, flickering every so often, adding to the dilapidated look of the bathroom.

The stall doors were only partially open. Michael swore they were concealing some kind of monster, waiting to jump out at him. There was nothing in any of the stalls, much to Michael's relief.

He rounded the corner carefully, as to not run into a new danger. The light glinted off something in the back of the showers. It looked like a note and a key. Michael looked back and forth before stepping into the shower, weary of a trap. He scolded himself for being silly. A trap? In a bathroom? He shook his head in spite of himself as he bent down to pick up the note. Before he could even open it, the lights went out.

A piercing scream echoed through the bathroom. He knew that scream, it was Stacy. His heart was pounding out of his chest, as he fumbled with the flashlight. Michael waited for a claw, some teeth, or other sharp instrument of pain to surge through his body before he could even get the damn flashlight on.

With a quick twist, the flashlight was one, casting a dim light over the bathroom, possibly creating more apprehension than when he was in the dark. He pulled out the gun, ready to fire at the slightest inclination of danger.

He took a slow step out of the shower stalls. The first thing he noticed was the obvious change in the bathroom. Everything looked rusted, decayed, bloody, and unsightly. It was like everything had changed somehow.

His head pounded and Michael thought that for a moment, his heart would just stop. He forced his leg to step forward toward the mirror. Streaks of blood ran down the mirror and across. As Michael focused more, he saw something was written, but it wasn't legible. He suddenly realized why it wasn't...it was written backwards. But the handwriting was chaotic, like it was written in a rush by someone who was hurt...or worse.

He looked to the left at the other mirror to get a glimpse of the writing in the reflection of the opposite mirror. His blood ran cold as he read aloud, "Death comes to thee."

It was simple, but maybe that's what made it so powerful. Somehow he knew something terrible had happened to Stacy. He should have made her stay with him, but he had a lapse in judgment. Now who knows what happened to her.

He rounded the corner, and glanced toward the door. It seemed so much farther away now. He also noticed the closest stall to him was now closed. He tried to push it open but it was locked from the inside.

He hesitantly knocked on the stall door. There was an uneasy silence in the bathroom.

Michael knocked again, but this time, there was a knock back.

He jumped back, his heart about to explode. Was someone in there?

Michael had seen enough horror movies to know not to call out to the person or ask any other stupid question. However, he couldn't resist knocking again just to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

He lightly rapped on the door and listened closely. A pounding came from the other side of the door, making Michael jump back and point his gun at the door.

"Who's there?"

Dammit. He cursed himself for doing the same stupid thing people always do in these situations.

He heard the door unlatch. Michael steadied himself, suddenly realizing he had backed up towards the showers. It was a dead end. If something sinister wishing to do him harm came out of that stall, he wouldn't be able to escape. Still, he poised himself ready to make the monster's victory a costly one.

The door creaked open slightly, leaving the toilet still out of sight.

He waited a few moments before taking a step towards the stall. There was always that moment of silence before something horrific happened, and the silence was deafening.

Another step closer to the stall. Maybe it was another clue, or another note. It seemed that someone had the habit of leaving things lying around in strange places.

He took another step and reached for the door. He pushed it open, and stood in horrified shock.

Her head—bloody—eyes gouged out—hair tangled and bloody, matted to her forehead—mouth open in an eternal scream—sitting in the toilet bowl—staring back at him—gashes on her face—so much blood—splattered all over the stall—running out of the toilet.

Michael ran out of the bathroom, stricken with horror, disgust, and anguish. He had left her alone and now, she was dead. Michael fell on the floor outside of the bathroom, stomach wrenching.

Michael didn't notice the figure, approaching silently from the left. He didn't notice the large bladed weapon in its hand. He couldn't have seen the crazed look on the deformed face of the figure as it approached its next victim.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami. All other characters are fictional.

Crimson Alessa: I appreciate you staying with the story, despite my long absence. And yes, I am definitely a fan of the suspenseful!

Invader-Zam4: As for the protagonist, I tend to have multiple people play that role. I think it adds a little bit of variety and a change up from a single person going through a situation. It's how I've done most of my stories. I hope it isn't too confusing or distracting. I agree with your comment about the monsters. When I read back, they did seem more RE than Silent Hill. It's very difficult though to create that image of a twisted, warped being of another world with writing. I'll do my best though to keep in the spirit of SH and create more twisted, evil things! Hopefully, this new foe will fall into that category. Oh, I suffer quite often from writer's block. I know that you'll find direction too, just don't give up.

Rich: You are a great friend! Thanks for reading this story as well as the Gen X ones. I hope I can keep up the suspense!

E.P.O.: I'm flattered by the compliment. Thank you so much. As I told Invader-Zam4., I like to write with multiple characters to keep the reader involved and to keep things fresh. I'm glad it's working!

Wrath: You've kept up with me from the beginning of this story...thanks for staying with it! Yes, Claudia is still alive...hopefully, more will be explained later on!

Rodarian: I tried to kind of make an explanation for the monster's existence. I did a lot of reading before I started this and found that there are several different interpretations for the monsters in the town. Most say that they are in the person's mind that is in Silent Hill. I wanted to go for an explanation that had all of the characters experiencing the same thing, though not there for the same reason. The townspeople changing hopefully shows the connection between the normal Silent Hill and the warped Silent Hill. More on that connection will be explored later in the story as well.


	6. First Stand

I.

So far, the creatures Michael had run into were something out of a Resident Evil game, which he played in some of his spare time. As much as he was surprised that he was battling otherworldly creatures, when in the heat of battle, his actions came naturally.

Michael intended on getting out of the haunted—warped—infested—whatever—school and getting on the road with his classmate, Stacy. He had met her only about twenty minutes ago. They didn't meet under the best of circumstances though. She was being attacked by something gruesome and strange. Michael couldn't decide whether he had driven it away or it left of its own volition.

He and Stacy clung to the fact that they were with another human in a world that had seemingly turned upside down. Somehow, both of them assumed that whatever was going on with the school was an isolated occurrence. They assumed everything outside of the school was normal. The police would come and tell them that some experiment had gotten out of hand and let these creatures loose.

They both settled into this expectation, never letting the other know what they were thinking. That would have been fine, except for the fact that Stacy had been dismembered by someone or something. It had happened in a matter of seconds, making Michael wonder if she had even been alive in the first place.

Now, he wished he could erase the grotesque image from his mind. He gasped for air, trying to compose himself, despite the situation. Was there anything that he could have done for her? Then he realized that he really didn't even know her. They were in the same Anthropology class this semester and that was it. This was the first time he had talked to her.

Still, someone had killed Stacy purposefully. It made the situation all that much more real and dangerous for Michael and his mind went over everything that happened. He suddenly knew that this whole situation was worse than he thought and dangerous. These creatures were seriously out to kill him and whoever else they could get a hold of.

He clenched his eyes closed, hoping that he was really in some kind of drunken nightmare, caused by watching some horror movie before going to sleep. He would wake up in his bed in would be early afternoon and go get something to eat.

A sudden clashing of metal against metal drove away the fantasy and let Michael that the world he was in now was his reality and there was no escaping it.

He looked in the direction of the noise to see a figure shambling toward him. A large blade was being dragged behind it. It was dark, and Michael still couldn't make out the figure clearly, but he instantly knew that it was the same thing that killed Stacy. Now, it was coming for him.

Michael slowly rose to his feet, taking an unsteady step backwards. He clenched the gun tightly, waiting for the moment to fire off a round and keep firing until the thing was dead. He felt a small drop of sweat creep down his back. His throat contracted making his breath come in short, ragged gasps.

When the creature finally staggered into the light, Michael was instantly horrified. It was like anything he had ever seen. The small creatures that he had run into earlier were normal compared to the behemoth that stood before him.

Blood dripped from its hands and the blade as it swung the blade at Michael. He barely made it out of the way as it crashed into the wall leaving a jagged rip.

Michael rolled into a crouching position and tried to fire, but the lights began to flicker. The creature danced in and out of the darkness moving much faster than before. It was as if the creature was appearing and disappearing in different location around the room, moving ever closer to Michael.

He ran down the hallway, hoping to put some distance between himself and the creature. But he wasn't moving fast enough. He heard the blade slice through the air. He spun his body out of the path of the blade only to lose his balance and fall. Michael cursed as the gun clattered across the steel grated floor out of his reach.

The masked creature saw its opportunity and redirected the blade toward the floor. Michael rolled, the attack barely missing him.

_How am I supposed to stop him?_

Michael ran to the opposite side of the hallway, which was mysteriously blocked off. He looked down through the grating only to be stared at by complete darkness and the sounds of otherworldly creatures, looking for any victim in their reach.

There had to be some way to get the creature to fall through the floor. Michael glanced back at the spot the monster had struck. He had swung so hard that the blade had sliced through the grating like a hot knife through butter.

Michael knew that his plan would be dangerous, but he was in just as much danger standing there waiting for the creature to come after him again. He took a deep breath as the grotesquely large figure sauntered toward him.

He shifted his weight and charged directly at the figure. As he hoped, the figure lifted the blade and brought it straight down toward him. Michael rolled across the grating, underneath its legs, the blade missing him only by inches.

He rolled to a standing position, never breaking stride. He dove for the gun. Rolling across the ground, he stood quickly and charged the figure again. He made sure to angle his path so the swing would connect with the floor, causing the damage to spread.

Everything was going according to plan, the figure swung downward every time Michael made a pass, unaware that it was going to be the cause of its own destruction. However, Michael began to tire, wondering if he could keep it up. It seemed like a slow process. He spaced out the damage so the figure was standing in a large circle of sliced floor.

One last pass and a quick leap put Michael on the other side of the hole as the figure groaned, falling into the darkness. He sat on the ground, panting, trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He opened them when a strange noise seemed to resound in his head. It was something like a siren or alarm, but it reverberated nowhere and everywhere at the same time. He glanced around for another attacker, but his vision began to blur.

"What?" Michael said as the surroundings changed from the dilapidated steel grating and blood along the walls to the school hallway that he knew. The alcoves of rooms returned, the tiled floor as well as textured ceiling...everything was the way it should have been.

"Was I dreaming?" Michael asked, suddenly unsure of everything that had happened to this point. He immediately ran into the bathroom, which was no longer a dark, menacing trap, but a slightly dirty community restroom.

Running to the last stall, Michael threw it open and found nothing but a toilet. Stacy, or what was left of her was no where to be seen. Michael left the bathroom and was about to walk down the stairs when something caught his eye.

He walked over to the object, carefully examining it before picking it up. It was a flyer for the church, which was right outside of the town. A key was taped to the piece of paper as well.

Puzzled, but ready to leave, Michael ripped the key off the paper and shoved the flyer in his pocket. Heading down the stairs, Michael didn't glance back at the school he used to know.

II.

Christine stayed quiet for as long as she could. She followed behind Heather closely, jumping at almost every screech and growl she heard. The thick fog only made the situation worse, hiding everything more than about seven feet from them. There was definitely something wrong with this town.

"What is wrong with this town?" Christine broke the silence.

"I told you not to come—" Heather unemotionally said.

Christine became slightly agitated. "What was I supposed to do then? Wait around for someone to pick me up? We hadn't seen a car for three hours before—" Christine trailed off.

Heather stopped and spun toward the girl, obviously agitated. "Listen, there are things going on here that you wouldn't understand. There's something bigger going on than you could realize. I don't have time to answer a million questions or explain the situation. You can come with me and help, or you can stay behind and deal on your own. It's up to you." With that, Heather turned and continued on her determined path.

Christine wanted to slap the hell out of her. Who did she think she was?

"Look, just because you're comfortable with fighting for your life against these monsters, doesn't mean that everyone else is. I'm definitely not."

"That's why you shouldn't have come," Heather said over her shoulder.

Christine knew she was in no position to fend for herself. She didn't have a weapon, and she didn't know where she was. There was no advantage to her going off by herself but to be rid of Heather.

"Look, can we at least stop for a second so I can get myself together?"

Christine was grating on Heather's nerves. She was ready to shoot the girl and let the monsters have their way with her. "Fine, two minutes, Princess."

"Why are you in such a hurry anyways?"

"The only person that was with me through all of this is still at the amusement park."

Christine suddenly realized the reason for the girl's determination. Still, she had more questions for Heather. She knew that somehow, this girl had survived something terrible, but was drawn back into this terrible place.

"I'm sorry. We can go now," Christine said. She tried to straighten herself up so she gave the impression that she was ready as well.

"Let's go," Heather said, leading Christine into the think fog.

III.

Trey was relieved to be on the outskirts of the town. He had only run into a few more monsters, which he quickly dodged, rather than confronting them. He swore that it had taken him all day to get there, but in reality, only an hour had passed.

He figured that it was only a few miles back to the school. He figured that it was only a few miles to the school.

He ran a few more feet then stopped. A large church loomed in front of him. It was a rather large structure, looking nothing like the other buildings of the town.

He felt an instant relief of pressure. In such a terrible situation, churches were always places of sanctuary. Trey grinned as he saw the Camry in front of the church, which told him that someone was there.

He picked up the pace and dashed toward the building, not knowing that one of his classmates was close to meeting death inside.

Notes:

Okay, so I was having all this difficulty with the internet and couldn't get to for most of the summer. However, the problem got fixed within the past few days, so I'm back. I appreciate everyone reading and reviewing. The advice and compliments really help tailor future chapters. Keep reading and I hope that I can keep giving all of you a good story.

Rodarian: Thanks for the praise. Bathrooms in Silent Hill are always the worst. When I was playing Silent Hill 2 and went in the bathroom with the closed door and the scream erupted randomly, I turned the game off! Sorry about the sudden death of Stacy. Who knows...maybe she'll reappear or something later on.

E.P.O.: I'm glad the cliffhanger is keeping you hooked. The figure isn't too creepy, but I think he gets the job done.

Wrath: It's hard to write scary stuff like that, so I'm glad that the toilet scene came off well. You will get to see more of the crazy priest in the next chapter, and it won't be good for our protagonists.

Crimson Alessa: This chapter was a little short, but trust me, there will be just as much if not more suspense in the next one!

Invader-Zam-4: I worked on some of the pauses between paragraphs. I use Microsoft Word, but when I post, it takes out some of the returns and page dividers I have. I'm using roman numerals now, to give the reader a bit of breathing time in between scenes. I will definitely take your advice on creating monsters. I appreciate the advice. Oh, and now that I can get back on I'll definitely leave you some reviews too!

Elvenmagyk1978: The two reviews were awesome. I'm glad that the story is to your liking. Hopefully, this chapter gives you what you were looking for and more.

Kawaru85: Well, the psycho is no more (hopefully) and Michael is on his way to another danger for sure. Yes, Heather is the same one from the third game, inexplicably thrust back into the world of Silent Hill, but things aren't as they seem.


	7. Deceptive Sanctuary

I.

"The church—" Michael read once again. He had read it several times. He put his head on the steering wheel of the Camry he was in. The key was a car key, which worked on the only car in the parking lot. He felt reluctant to leave, because if this note was directing him to go into the town, it was possible that the horror had somehow extended into Silent Hill.

He turned the key, thankful that the car started, and headed out of the parking lot, off the campus, and onto the stretch of highway toward Silent Hill.

Soon, Michael figured that he would get some answers, but somehow he knew they weren't going to be the answers he wanted to hear.

A thick fog covered the landscape, shrouding everything in a blanket of grey moisture. Michael could barely see five feet in front of him as he drove. He felt uneasy, something that had overtaken him since this whole fiasco had begun. Never in his life had he felt more alone and vulnerable as he drove down the desolate highway. Michael was sure that something hideous was lurking in the shadows, waiting for his car to break down so it could snack on his bones.

Michael tried to shake off his thoughts. He turned on the radio, hoping to get lost in the music, at least for a moment. However, static populated the radio. Annoyed, Michael flipped through the channels, checking his favorite station first, then all the others.

Sighing, Michael turned off the radio and focused back on the street. The dense fog and trees turned into buildings as Michael entered Silent Hill. After only a few moments, the car suddenly began to slow down. Michael's eyes frantically darted across the dash for any warning lights. He stepped on the accelerator harder, but there was no response. The car was stopped.

Michael sat in the car for a moment. He couldn't believe that the car had suddenly stopped as soon as he got into the town. The thought crossed his mind that he had somehow walked right into a trap.

Michael leaned over and tried the glove compartment. It would open only a few centimeters but seemed stuck. It was too narrow for Michael to fit his slender fingers into. Then he remembered the tool in his bag.

Retrieving the screwdriver, he inserted it into the crack and popped the glove compartment open. The first thing he saw tumble out was a map. He opened it and saw that it was a map of Silent Hill. The other item that fell out was another package of bullets.

_These will definitely come in handy._

Putting the bullets in his bag, Michael got out of the car and looked around. The fog seemed much thicker than before, shrouding everything in some kind of ominous curtain. Michael looked toward the path he had driven in on and his mouth opened in shock. A large chasm now cut through the street, making it impossible to go back across.

He made a marking on the map then pulled out the paper that had the address of the church on it.

It said it was located on Nathan Street, which was the street he was on. He figured he was pretty close as he set off into the town.

Only a few minutes later, Michael found himself in front of a church. It was a small building, but looked elaborately built. Columns lined the front of the pale white structure and stained glass covered the windows. A sense of relief passed through Michael as he ran up the steps and to the front doors. The heavy oak doors creaked open as Michael took a deep breath before entering.

II.

"So where is the amusement park?" Christine asked.

Heather continued to walk, purposefully ignoring the question.

Christine sighed loudly, hoping that she would get some kind of reaction from Heather. She figured that it was somewhere on Nathan Street since they had been walking on it for the past ten minutes.

Christine ran right into Heather. "Hey, let me know when you're going to stop like that."

Heather pulled out a map and seemed to be searching for something.

"What's wrong?"

Heather folded the map up and put it into her pocket. She readied her gun. "This church...it wasn't here before."

"Maybe you just—"

Heather walked carefully toward the church. Christine quickly caught up to her, not wanting to be left alone.

III.

Thomas Halpern couldn't have been more proud of his work. He revered the altar with glee and awe. The day had come, the day of reckoning that he had been waiting for so long. The day when the god he worshipped would finally live, creating the paradise he had so feverishly imagined.

He was remotely aware of the doors opening, but attributed it to the wind. He continued to gaze at his offering.

The priest stood still at the front of the church, staring at something, which immediately struck Michael as odd. Still, the priest was another living person, who was seemingly caught up in this mess too. If anything, maybe they could figure something out together.

"Excuse me," Michael suddenly realized he didn't know what kind of a priest he was.

The priest responded to Michael almost with surprise and regarded him suspiciously for a moment. Then a big smiled crossed his face was he left the task he was putting together to greet Michael.

"Ahhh, it's good to see you!" the priest shook his hand jubilantly.

The priest himself looked about thirty, with dark brown hair and a worn face. Even though his expression was friendly and warm, his dark eyes said something completely different. His shake was hearty, his grip firm.

Michael was relieved from the priest's overall reaction. "I thought everyone was gone. I'm glad to see another living person."

"Yes, yes. Please, come this way," he placed his hand in the small of Michael's back, urging him to the front to take a seat.

"I'm Father Tom."

Michael almost chuckled. He totally expected some kind of biblical name like Jeremiah or Obadiah, something fear-striking. Yet, he was just Tom.

"I'm Mike, Michael McNeal. I'm a student at the college."

"Oh, I see. Much of my service is made up of students from your school," he regarded Michael with an almost unhealthy interest.

Michael felt uneasy. "Ummm—so have you been attacked or anything by the weird creatures running around?"

"Creatures?" Tom said in the most puzzled tone Michael had ever heard.

He sighed. Obviously, the priest must have locked himself in the chapel. Or such creatures didn't dare step onto holy ground, which was a relief for Michael. That meant he was relatively safe for a while.

"You must not know what's going on. It was like all the sudden, the other people disappeared and these—things—started happening. Creatures were everywhere, blood, and just plain weird stuff."

Tom chuckled, as if Michael was retelling some funny, old joke he had heard once before.

"Look, I'm serious," Michael said, his voice rising in pitch and annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but you have it all wrong. Those things out there aren't creatures. They're the children of our lord." He chuckled again, making Michael feel uneasy, "You are still adjusting to the shock of being one of the chosen."

"What are you talking about?" Michael started to inch slowly out of Tom's reach.

"One of the witnesses to the coming of our god."

Of all the people Michael could have run into, he runs into a psychotic priest. He obviously had something wrong with him...maybe he had hit his head and was confused. Maybe he was an escaped patient from some mental asylum and was hoping that he had found his next victim in Michael. Regardless of the reason, Michael suddenly felt like he had made a bad choice by confiding in the priest.

"Look, maybe you're in shock, I could—"

Tom roughly grabbed his arm, moving faster than Michael would have thought the older man could, and threw him into the aisle. "On your knees before the lord, and repent for your faltering belief."

"Wait a minute—" Michael managed to stammer out before the priest struck him in the face. Michael toppled over onto his stomach, and felt a hard boot digging into the back of his neck.

"Are you crazy?" Michael managed to choke out.

Tom pressed harder on Michael's neck. "Shut your sacrilegious mouth! Repent or be cast to the winds!"

Michael struggled to keep his neck from being crushed, but he was losing the battle. His arms flailed behind him, trying to get a hold of the crazy priest's ankle or leg.

His hands just missed grabbing a pant leg. Michael felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter until he couldn't breathe. His eyes clenched shut as he strained to lift the priest off of him.

They heard a gun click at the same time.

"Step back now."

Michael felt the pressure leave his neck. He gasped for air. Sucking it in too fast, he began to cough.

The priest turned around to see a young girl with a gun pointed directly at him.

"Oh, it's you. The mother of our god—"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear anymore of that garbage!"

Father Tom smiled sickly at Heather. "Yes, mother of god. Mine eyes are not fit to gaze upon you, but yet, I can't turn away. You—" he took a step towards her. "Your face. So beautiful—"

"Stay back. I'm warning you—" Heather said, suddenly unsure if she could shoot another person.

He got closer and closer until his eyes suddenly widened and he fell forward. Another boy stood behind him with a wooden plank, satisfied that he had accomplished something helpful.

"It's not like you were going to shoot a priest. You would have definitely went to hell for that," Trey mused.

"Where do you think we are now?" Heather retorted.

Michael stood, grateful that three other people had arrived in the church. "Who are you?"

"Maybe I should be asking you that," Heather suspiciously said.

"Wait a minute. I'm not like him," he motioned to the unconscious priest. "I don't know what the hell is going on."

"I'm Christine," she said, stepping from behind Heather.

"I'm Trey. I ran in here and saw you struggling with the priest. I hid in the pews until he passed me."

"Thanks," Michael smiled. "My name's Mike."

"Her name is Heather, but she has an attitude," Christine said, feeling comfortable.

"These introductions are cute and all, but what are you doing _here_?" Heather asked.

"I don't know. Everything started going crazy at school. Everyone disappeared and the only person I found was murdered by some _thing_." Michael shuddered as he remembered coming across Stacy's dismembered body in the bathroom stall. "I barely escaped. I found a car key and a paper that led me to this church. I was hoping to find some clue to what's going on."

Trey nodded and when Michael was finished, added his part of the story. "I was in the town and suddenly, everyone started acting strange. I couldn't find any of my friends and these monsters started appearing everywhere. I don't know what's going on anymore."

Heather eyed the two of them suspiciously.

"You're looking at us like we did something," Trey shot.

"Listen, every person I run into in this place is a mental case. They're all a part of this plan to resurrect some god. How do I know any of you are any different?" Heather shifted her glance to include Christine.

"Resurrect a god? Are you kidding me? I feel like I stepped into a horrifying video game," Michael shot. "We're all in this together, whatever it is. We don't have time to be mistrustful and arguing."

"Well, this isn't a game, and considering everything that's happened, I have the right to be mistrustful. This whole place—" Heather trailed off. She turned and began to walk toward the church door.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Christine said.

Heather stopped walking.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you already, I'm going to find Douglas."

"Listen, Heather," Trey interjected. "Those things out there...you can't go at this alone."

"I'm not going to argue with you. This is what I have to do."

With that, she strode out of the church, leaving Michael, Trey, and Christine alone.

Notes:

Wrath: Thanks for the compliments once again. Yes, our clever protagonists still make the age-old horror movie (or in this case game) mistakes. Luckily, it turned out good for Michael.

Rodarian: I am a fan of both Resident Evil and Silent Hill...my two favorite games. I'm glad you could appreciate the reference.

Crimson Alessa: It wasn't Pyramid Head, but a similar antagonist for the teens. I'm glad that I was able to stay true to Heather's character. Keep reading and let me know what you think.

E.P.O.: Of all the horror resources we have in this day and age, Trey still traipses into the church unmindful of personal danger sigh . Glad you liked the fight between Michael and his mysterious stalker. You will see more of that guy in future chapters.

Rich: Glad you liked the chapter. I hope this one is just as good as the last...

Kaworu85: LOL...hopefully, Christine will stop being so annoying and start helping out where she can. Is your name Japanese then?

Elvenmagyk1978: I'm glad you like the story.

.Cat: Here's the next part...let me know what you think!


	8. Finding Their Way

I.

Heather stepped into the cool night air. In a way, she was relieved to be alone again, but deep inside, she didn't want to go another step without someone with her. When she thought about going back inside, an overwhelming sense of dread overtook her. Douglas...he was with her and now, he was stranded somewhere in this strange town. Her father, Harry Mason, had also been stuck down, a victim of the town he had escaped before. Every sane person she had come across was now missing or dead.

Tears stung her eyes again, thinking about everything that had happened to this point. She blamed herself, but then turned her anger to the one that caused all of this.

"Claudia," she said aloud. Heather could feel the anger building up inside of her again. On top of everything else, Claudia had somehow involved these other kids in her evil scheme of resurrection.

Heather turned back to the church door. Could she really trust them? After all, everyone she met in Silent Hill wasn't exactly someone that had all of their mental capabilities (i.e. they were crazy). If they weren't then Heather knew that they would need her help and that she would need their help eventually.

Heather took a breath and pushed the door back open stepping into the inviting light of the church.

II.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Trey asked. Michael stood in the isle, watching the fallen body of Father Tom who moments ago attacked Michael. Trey and Christine sat in the pews trying not to look at the horrific scene at the front of the church.

"I don't know," Michael quietly answered. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the altar at the front of the church, but his curiosity kept getting the better of him.

The macabre sight was nothing short of disgusting. One of the creatures familiar to Michael had been slain and placed on top of the altar. Black candles were placed around the mass as well a hefty amount of blood that trickled down and made small puddles around the altar.

"What was he doing?" Christine asked, looking at the altar as well.

"I don't know. He was ranting about some coming of a god and that these creatures were children of that god."

The church door opened cause the three of them to turn around, not knowing what to expect. When Heather appeared in the light, they were somewhat relieved, but puzzled.

"You came back?" Trey asked.

Heather ignored the question and closed the heavy wooden door behind her. "This place is dangerous. We should probably get out of here."

Michael paused for a moment. "I don't know...I feel like I was led here for a reason, like there's something that I'm supposed to find."

"Well, maybe you should find it before Tommy boy here wakes up and throws us into a pit of eternal fire and damnation," Trey replied. He stood and stepped into the isle. "It seems like a pretty big church."

"Don't get any crazy ideas about splitting up," Michael quickly said. "I've seen enough horror movies and played enough games to know that splitting up never turns out good. Even if you have to go to the bathroom, stay together."

Heather gave a half-smile. "That's probably the smartest thing I've heard all night."

Christine sighed. "I still don't know what's going on. What is with this place?"

Heather remembered that Christine had asked the same question earlier. As she thought about it, Heather realized that she was as much in the dark as they were. Everything was still so muddled and confusing. Still, they knew even less than she did.

"I don't know how this town got like this," Heather began. She stepped forward and sat down in a pew opposite Christine. "I've found several newspaper articles and journals that point to strange things happening here, but I'm still not sure where it began. The part that I do know is what happened twenty-four years ago."

Michael and Trey both moved to the pews and sat down, wanting to fully comprehend what Heather had to say.

"I was in this town twenty-four years ago...I was fourteen then..."

A sudden chill ran down Michael's back. In any other situation, he would have quickly retaliated with a joke. But he knew that Heather wasn't lying.

"Fourteen?" Christine repeated. "But how old—"

"I'm seventeen now."

The air seemed to get heavy and Michael knew that there was much more to Heather than he realized before. He caught the gaze of Trey and Christine and tried to read them. He wondered if they were going to accept what she was about to tell them. There was no way that her story would make sense with rational thought, but with everything that happened tonight, Heather's story would be the best explanation that they had.

"My mother wanted to resurrect a god here in this town. To do this, they needed a vessel...a virgin that the god could be born through. I was that vessel. Because of this, I had powers...abilities that the other children didn't have. My mother...she wanted to exploit those powers. I was almost killed in a fire when I was seven. I don't know what happened, but I know that it was my mother's doing. Even at that age, I knew that something was wrong. I did the only thing I could do—I divided myself. My father, Harry Mason, found me on the side of the road, as a baby. Because I was now split into two parts, my power couldn't be used by my mother and the town to resurrect their god. For seven years, I stayed in that hospital basement and for those same seven years I grew up with my father. But, I couldn't stay apart forever. I came back to Silent Hill with my father. He was able to confront my mother and stop the god from being born. It was then that I was reborn, given to him as a baby. Now, seventeen years later, the town that I thought I had escaped has called me back."

Heather ended the story. The silence of the church was suddenly more menacing than any monster they had encountered tonight.

"Heather," Michael said placing a hand on her shoulder. She quickly stood and moved into the aisle.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Heather focused her gaze on the three teens.

Michael shied away from her gaze as if she was talking directly to him. He shifted to look at Father Tom, but the spot where he was laying was empty.

Michael quickly stood but only caught a glimpse of the man as the door to the right of the altar closed.

"It's the priest! He's getting away!" Michael exclaimed. He took off after the escaping clergyman, Trey, Christine, and Heather on his heels.

Michael dashed through the door and stopped. Trey, Christine, and Heather followed suit. They found themselves in a short hallway with three doors, two on the right and one on the left. At the end of the hallway, a set of stairs led to an even darker hallway.

"Did you see where he went?" Trey whispered.

Michael shook his head. He suddenly felt as though they were being led into a dangerous situation. He held his breath for a moment, listening for any type of sound that would let them know where the priest had gone. He heard nothing.

"Let's check this first door," Michael suggested. He put his hand on the knob and looked back at the other three. Trey had his wooden plank ready to swing on anything that might appear. Christine lingered in the back, without any sort of weapon. Heather was right next to Michael with her gun pointed at the door.

Michael exhaled wondering what he was going to find behind this door. Was it going to be a dead body? Maybe another creature? Or maybe some kind of dangerous trap?

He turned the knob slowly, the gun in his right hand pointed into the darkness.

III.

"Those meddling heathens!" Tom cursed aloud as he dashed through the dark hallway. Not only did they disrupt his offering to his god, but they had turned the mother of god against him.

His footsteps were quick and light, uncharacteristic for a man of his statue. He was stocky and had a slight limp, only noticeable when he moved too fast. Still he had outrun his younger pursuers and for this, he was thankful.

He turned right down a short hallway and pulled out his set of keys. Fumbling with them, he finally opened the door. He didn't notice a key fall off the key chain, nor did he hear it clatter to the floor.

The darkness of the room swallowed him as the door closed behind him.

IV.

Much to everyone's relief, they found themselves in what looked like the bedroom of the priest. It was a plain room with bare walls and a bare wood floor. A single bed was against the wall opposite the door, neatly made with crisp white sheets and a white pillow.

To their immediate left was a large bookcase that took up a majority of the wall. All kinds of books lined the shelves in no particular order. Most of the books looked like old texts with tattered spines and yellow pages.

A desk was next to the closet. The desk was also bare. A notepad was placed neatly on the left side of the desktop with a pencil next to it. Two books were stacked on top of one another in the middle and a strange coin the size of a quarter sat on the right side.

"Is this the priest's room?" Christine asked. She was the last one to enter, closing the door behind her.

Michael looked through the books on the bookshelf. Books on religion, as well as several local texts were on the shelf. As Michael skimmed, he began to notice books on witchcraft and other types of worship.

"What a strange book collection. Especially in a church," Michael commented. He took a look and noticed a sheet of paper sticking out of a book. Carefully taking it out, he unfolded the piece of paper.

"Find something?" Trey asked as he peered over Michael's shoulder.

"I don't know," Michael slowly said. "The first part is all smudged, but the rest says, '...ring the silent bell in the darkness...the light shall reveal the passage to...'"

"That's it?" Trey asked.

"That's all it says," Michael replied.

"Something about it sounds creepy," Christine added as she tried to look out the window. "This fog isn't helping either." She turned away from the window, missing the fleeting shadow that dashed by. She took a seat at the desk, trying to find something that would be of help.

"Ring the silent bell?" Heather quietly repeated.

"Hey, I was looking through this notebook and found a sketch of the church!" Christine excitedly said. Michael, Heather, and Trey crossed the room and surrounded the desk. It looks like there are three rooms on the second floor and a bell tower. There's also another door off of the main part of the church. It should be opposite of the door we came in. It's a single room, but it looks kind of big."

Michael grabbed the notebook and pencil and put them both in his backpack. "Is there anything else?" Michael asked.

"Well, this weird coin," Christine pointed out.

"I've never seen a coin like that," Trey mentioned as he picked it up. He turned it over in his hands, analyzing the stars scattered in the center and the strange language encircling them.

"Bring it," Heather quickly said.

"You think we should? I mean, what if it has a curse on it or something?" Trey raised his eyebrows, giving Heather a genuine expression of concern.

"A curse should be the last thing you're worried about at this point."

Michael grabbed the coin and put it in his pocket.

Christine struggled with the drawers of the desk, but then she saw that there was a keyhole in the desk. "These drawers are locked," she mentioned. She searched for a key on the desktop but didn't find one.

"Here, pry them open with this," Michael handed her the screwdriver he had picked up from the security office earlier in the evening.

In almost no time, Christine had the drawers open. "Bullets?" she asked.

"Glad I grabbed that screwdriver," Michael said as he took the bullets and passed them to Heather.

"Thanks," she said, putting them in her pocket.

They also found a piece of wire that Heather again advised them to take with them.

"You're quite the packrat," Trey said to Heather.

Heather ignored the comment. "We should probably check that other door."

Everyone agreed, almost reluctant to leave the safety of the bedroom. They searched for a little more and found nothing but a journal from the priest. They elected to read it later and quickly left the room.

They got to the door and tried to turn the knob, but the door was locked.

"This sucks," Trey said.

"The priest probably has a set of keys. If we find him, then we'll be able to unlock this door," Heather said.

"Well, there were two more rooms on this floor, then three more on the second floor," Michael said as he looked at the map. "He couldn't have gotten too far...there's only one entrance."

Michael folded the map and moved back into the other hallway followed by his companions. They checked the other two rooms on the first floor. One was a janitor's closet full of brooms and mops but nothing useful. The other room was the bathroom, which Michael did not go into.

On the second floor, two of the doors seemed to have broken knobs. "That's really weird," Michael mentioned. "At the school, there were a lot of door knobs that were suddenly broken as well."

Before they got to the last door, Heather spotted the key on the floor. "This might open that door downstairs."

They began to head toward the stairs when Michael stopped. "We didn't check that last room."

"Do you think it's safe?" Trey asked, the fear in his voice more evident than before.

"We don't know what's in there. We might as well," Michael said.

"Look, let's just not waste time," Heather stated. She wanted to get out of the church as soon as possible to find Doug, but she thought that she would be able to find something else to help her before that.

Michael went to the door, suddenly feeling like something was going to happen. He could feel something in the air. Something heavy. Something stifling. Something evil. He shook off the feeling and opened the door.

The room was dark, too dark. Michael took his flashlight out and shined it into the room. The soft white light fell on the same wood floor that the rest of the church had, but the light glanced off a table leg. Michael stepped farther in the room, followed by the rest.

"This room is too dark," Christine mentioned. Trey could feel her edging closer and closer to him.

Michael walked over to the table, his steps slowing down as the contents of the table came into focus.

"Oh my," Christine said.

On the table sat two eyes that looked as though they had been freshly pulled from a living creature.

The eyes stared at the teens as they moved toward the table.

Michael shined the light on the wall behind the table.

THE PRIEST IS WATCHING YOU.

Notes:

Rodarian: Yes, they definitely will be taking a wonderful tour of the scenic and ever-so-menacing town of Silent Hill. I hope to include some familiar hot spots as well.

Crimson Alessa: Thank you for the compliments. Hopefully, Christine is a little more likeable in this chapter.

Cat: When I post, it won't let me make the cute cat face you have 

Anyways, I'm glad that you like the story. I hope that the amusement park will be just as scary as what we've seen in SH3.

Kronos106: I appreciate the review. The monster that Michael fought against wasn't Pyramid Head, but I have a feeling that he may be showing up soon...


	9. First Puzzle

I.

"They're not real," Trey confidently stated. Christine had her head buried in his shoulder afraid that if she looked at the eyes, they would stare back at her.

"They're not real?" Michael repeated, unsure of what Trey was getting at.

Trey stepped around Michael and leaned closer to the eyes. "They're definitely not real. Look at the roundness of the eyes. Our eyes are a bit more elongated than these. They're a perfect circle.

"What are they doing here then?" Christine stayed in the back of the group, still convinced that the eyes had a sinister gaze.

Michael stepped closer to the eyes and peered at them alongside Trey. "How do you know that? They look pretty real to me."

"Look at how shiny they are, Mike," Trey said, slightly little annoyed. "I'm a bio major. I know real eyes when I see them."

"That still doesn't explain why they're here, or where the priest is," Heather quickly responded. Her eyes moved slowly around the room, unsure if the eyes were a distraction for something much worse.

Christine moved in a little closer. "Do you think they're important?" she asked.

"They're sitting in the middle of a table like they were meant to be found for something. Maybe the priest put them here."

"Maybe," Heather ominously said.

Michael hesitated when picking up the eyes, so Trey scooped them up and put them in Michael's backpack.

"Who keeps writing on the wall?" Michael asked. It had only taken him a moment to realize that the same scrawled print on the wall was the same that he first saw in his room. He was convinced that someone was following them.

"It doesn't matter at this point," Heather sharply said. "We need to get going."

"What is it that you're not telling us? You've been pushy ever since we started looking around this place," Trey pointed out.

"Listen, the only person that helped me through all this is lying somewhere in the amusement park waiting for me. I have to go back there," Heather replied.

Trey suddenly understood. He realized that Heather had been through much more than they had dealing with whatever forces were driving the evil in this town. He felt as though there was something else she was not telling them.

"Where should we go now?" Christine asked.

Michael pulled the sketch of the church they had found earlier out of his bag. "Since we found these keys, maybe we can open the door we came across earlier. There are a few more rooms in this place that we haven't checked."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Maybe we shouldn't check them then. I mean, what if we run into some monster?"

"If you think you're going to avoid monsters at this point, you're fooling yourself," Heather bluntly stated. She strode toward the door. "Are we leaving now?"

Michael nodded and placed the map back in his bag. Before following Trey and Heather, he gave the room one last glance. The writing was gone.

II.

The key slipped into the door perfectly, the lock opened with a muffled click. Michael pushed the dark oak door open and stared into a dark room.

"Could the priest have at least paid his electric bill?" Trey said from behind Michael's shoulder.

Michael pulled his flashlight out of his bag and aimed the light into the room. Following Heather's advice, he had his gun in his right hand, his left hand supporting it and holding the flashlight.

Heather was right behind him with her gun pointed in the opposite direction. Trey followed them carefully, keeping his wooden plank ready to swing down on any menacing creature that appeared. Christine, the only one without a weapon, stayed as close to Trey as humanly possible.

The bits of furniture in the large room had been overturned. From the look of the room, it could have been a large Sunday school room or something similar with the exception of the displays of swords on the walls. Michael shone his light toward the overturned desk, then on the chair that was overturned.

"What's that?" Heather asked, pointing to a sheet of paper sticking out from underneath the desk. Michael peered closely at it before pulling it from its hiding spot. He turned it over in his hands and read it out loud.

"When the holy man gazes upon the wicked, the path to darkness will open," Michael felt a chill run down his back as he finished.

"What does that mean?" Christine asked.

The other three teens had circled around Michael, peering at the note.

"Sounds weird," Trey said. "If by holy man, they mean the priest, I don't think we're going to find him."

"I don't know," Heather said. She looked around the room, the distinct feeling that they were not alone nagging at her.

The phone vibrating in his pocket told Michael everything he needed to know. He stood slowly, looking around the room.

"Something's here," he whispered. He couldn't see where their enemy was, but his phone hadn't been wrong yet.

The room suddenly seemed much larger than before and darker. Shadows melted into other shadows, hiding something fleeting in their eternal darkness. As they shone their lights into the dark corners, the shadows simply retreated into another part of the room, keeping their clandestine tenants well hidden.

When Christine screamed, Heather and Michael both pointed their flashlights and weapons in the direction Christine was looking.

"What the hell is that?" Trey kept Christine behind him as he positioned the wood plank like a bat, ready to swing at what stood before them. A large four legged creature blocked the doorway poised as if ready to attack.

It was something that looked like it had been pieced together by a blind Frankenstein copycat. The flesh was made of different shades of skin complexions and looked glossy in the light. Its overly wide mouth was accented with several rows of teeth, a long black tongue licking over them hungrily.

"Listen, when I give the word, Trey, take Christine and head for the door," Michael said as he backed up.

"What? I can help," Trey protested.

"Listen, Heather and I have guns. You don't and Christine doesn't have anything to protect herself."

Trey kept his eyes on the creature as it began to growl. "That thing. What if it moves too fast for us?"

"Let's hope that it's big and slow," Michael kept his eyes pinned on the creature.Heather kept her gun aimed on the new menace as well. She watched it with a keen eye, waiting for the first hint of movement. When it began to charge them, Heather was the first to fire, getting a clean shot right to its midsection.

Michael fired as well, but missed the creature completely. He fired again, but the bullet only seemed to graze the creature's body. "Trey, go now!"

Trey grabbed Christine's wrist with his left hand, and kept the wood plank in his right and dashed toward the door. Luckily, Christine was on the same page and ran behind him, making herself less of a drag.

They made it to the door, but when Trey wrenched on the door, he found it locked. "What the hell? We're locked in!" He spun back toward the room only to see the creature barrel into Michael, which threw him across the room.

Heather stood her ground and continued to fire at the creature. It immediately turned on Heather and leaped at her. She dodged the attack, rolling to the right behind the desk. The creature was faster than she thought...almost immediately after landing, it turned and leaped at her again. She was knocked off balance and her gun slid across the floor.

"Heather!" Christine yelled.

Her cry drew the creature's attention and it charged Trey and Christine.

"Get back!" Trey yelled over the pounding footsteps of the charging menace. He positioned the wood plank like a bat and when the creature was upon them, swung with all his might.

The creature was obviously smarter than Trey had given it credit for. It caught the plank in its mouth and used Trey's momentum to toss him across the room. He flailed mercilessly in the air until slamming into the wall. The entire time, all he could think about was if Christine was going to be okay.

When Trey flew across the room, Christine knew she was in trouble. She suddenly realized her vulnerability and weakness in light of this new danger. Even though she felt hopelessness wash over her, she wouldn't die here. No, there were still things she had to find out, questions that she needed answered.

Christine dodged a swipe from a claw then rolled toward the center of the room.

"Christine, watch out!" Michael yelled.

She looked toward him and saw he was in a kneeling position with his gun pointed right behind her. She immediately hit the floor and Michael opened fire. By this time, Heather had retrieved her gun as well and fired upon the creature. It staggered for a moment but then charged once again.

Christine tried to crawl away from the creature when her hand hit something. She looked down and found that an electric taser was lying on the ground. It was a model used by the police, one that she was quite familiar with. She turned as the creature hovered only a foot away from her face. It opened its mouth, ready to enjoy the tasty meat of its victim.

She shoved the taser toward its mouth and hit the trigger, sending shocks straight through the creature's body. Christine retracted the taser quickly, and rolled backwards, springing herself into a standing position, then back flipped out of the way.

"I've got it!" Trey said as he rushed the creature. He leaped into the air and came down on the creature's head, sword in hand. With a sickening crunching sound, the sword pierced through the skull of the creature, nailing it to the floor. Trey backed up as thick blood began to seep from the wound.

Everyone was silent at first, not sure of what to expect. The sudden click of the lock broke through the silence, snapping everyone back into what they now knew as reality.

"Is everyone okay?" Michael stood and looked at everyone. Christine nodded, still holding onto the taser. She stared at the unmoving creature with disbelief.

"Trey?" Michael asked.

"I think so. Nothing's broken."

"Heather?"

Heather simply stood and walked toward the creature. Just for insurance, Heather raised her foot in the air and came down on the creature's head, crushing a part of the skull.

Christine turned away, disgusted by the chunks of fleshy matter that now littered the floor.

"I'm good now," Heather announced. "The door's unlocked. We should probably get out of here."

There was no argument as the other three teens followed Heather out of the room, closing the door behind them.

III.

"I still don't understand this note," Michael said. He had slipped the note in his pocket after they had found it in an abandoned room in the church. As they walked down the hallway, he looked at it again, unsure of its cryptic meaning.

"Maybe the eyes that we found have something to do with it," Trey suggested.

"There's this last room to check," Heather said. "Maybe we'll find something in here."

The door opened easily. They walked in, but Trey stayed by the door to make sure they didn't get mysteriously locked in again.

"An art gallery?" Christine was surprised at such a room being in a church.

"It doesn't look like an ordinary art gallery," Heather commented as she gazed at a painting of a crowd enveloped in a fire, seemingly praising a large eye painted in the sky. Heather wasn't sure, but it almost seemed as if the flames were actually alive, flicking and lashing out toward anyone that may stare too long. She quickened her pace and kept investigating the rest of the room.

"With everything that's happened, I can definitely say that this isn't a normal church," Michael commented as he left a painting of a woman, dangling by her arms with blood seeping down her body. "What kind of religion did they practice here?"

"I've found that the people of this town worship some kind of god that's more like a devil in our eyes," Heather explained. "Somehow, this town has been saturated with its power, the people simply pawns in allowing it to gain more power."

Christine stopped walking. "Some sort of god trying to gain more power? For what and why _this_ town?"

Heather shook her head. "I really don't know the answer to that. From what I've seen, many strange things have happened in this town for a couple hundred years. Even recently, there have been unexplained murders, serial killers, people just going insane, and other strange circumstances."

"This town...it isn't normal," Michael ominously said.

"What gave you the first clue?" Trey said from the door.

"I think that this god may be gaining more power and its spreading. What happened to me at the school is the exact same that's happening here in the church," Michael said, ignoring Trey's joke.

"I'm not surprised. It found a host body to exist in. There's no telling what it can do," Heather informed them.

"Ummm...guys, I think I found the holy man we were looking for," Christine said with trepidation.

Michael, Heather, and Trey, leaving the door propped open with a painting, rushed to where Christine stood.

"It's him," Michael said staggering back.

Father Tom, the priest they had encountered before now stood before them, frozen in a pose as if something were coming after him. He still had on his clergy outfit, his face though contorted and pale was still recognizable, but the only thing that really scared the four of them were the empty sockets that stared at some unknown horror.

Notes:

Cat: For right now, it seems the four of them are peas in a pod. However, things can always take a turn for the worse...

Rodarian: As many people have learned, when faced with those types of situations, it's always better to take everything that you come across, no matter how obscure, especially in the Silent Hill world.

Crimson Alessa: Thanks for the gushing and everything. I hope you like this chapter as well.

Kaworu85: Some of them will have their doubts about Heather's sanity very soon...

Slapdash: Thanks for all your reviews. As you can see, Father Tom didn't fare so well. Hopefully, Michael and Trey will wise up during their stay in Silent Hill.

Wrath: I appreciate the compliment. Hopefully, Trey's knack for humor will continue for a bit longer.

Fallen Angel-2099: Cool name by the way. The story has continued...

Windchaser90: Glad you like the story. Hopefully, all of your questions will be answered as the foursome makes their way through the muddled land of Silent Hill.


	10. What They Found

I.

_When the holy man gazes upon the wicked, the path to darkness will open._

The words of the riddle came back to Michael immediately. He followed the gaze of the empty sockets to a picture on the wall. However, the picture was simply of a hotel by a large lake. Michael couldn't discern anything wicked from the painting.

He looked around for another picture that could possibly depict something wicked going on. As he looked at the paintings, he realized he had to alter his thinking just a bit. The things they considered wicked, like worshipping a demon eye that floated in the sky, may not be exactly wicked in terms of the riddle.

"Do you guys see any painting or anything that could be considered _wicked_?" Michael asked still gazing around the room.

"I see someone that could be considered mean," Trey said, looking right at Heather.

Heather sighed. "Don't talk to me."

"In this warped place, there's no telling what is actually wicked," Christine mentioned.

Trey shrugged. "Well, let's just look for some crosses or pictures of angels or something good. That's probably what they're talking about."

"What about that large picture over there?" Christine pointed to an overly large painting depicting an audience around a poor, charred soul tied to a stake.

Trey rolled his eyes. "A picture of sadistic, ignorant settlers burning people at the stake was no where in the riddle."

Christine blew off Trey's sarcastic comment. "It's not just the picture, Trey," Christine walked over to the picture and kneeled, examining the area below it. "Right here, it looks like something was dragged behind this picture."

Heather was impressed, but suddenly suspicious. Christine had never shown herself to be quick on her feet thus far, and yet, she seemed to be quite clever and pretty stable considering the circumstances. Heather shook her head, accusing herself of being too suspicious, but in a place like this, was there really someone she could trust?

"Well, we still have the problem of the priest. He doesn't exactly have eyes to gaze upon the wicked," Trey said, then stopped. "The eyes, the eyes that we found earlier...Mike, give them to me."

"I'm glad you're volunteering to put those things in, because I wasn't even going to touch them," Michael reached in his bag and pulled out the cold, hard eyes and handed them to Trey.

He walked over and stepped up on the platform, took one eye, and carefully pushed it into the empty socket. Trey was immediately put off by the way they pushed in. Even though it was a statue, the unmistakable resistance felt like muscle and flesh resisting the replacement of the eyes.

His stomach turned, but he didn't let his expression betray how he felt. If Trey didn't do this, then he knew that they might be stuck in this horrific nightmare.

"Did it fit?" Michael asked, unable to see past Trey's head.

"Yeah," he replied, pushing the other one in, his stomach turning once again. "Okay, now we need to rotate him so he faces the painting. Mike, can you help me?"

Michael moved next to Trey and grabbed a hold of the immobile priest's lags. He and Trey grunted as the rotated the statue to the right.

The statue seemed immobile at first, but then it responded to Michael and Trey's grunts and pushing.

"I think you're good right there," Christine said.

Trey and Michael exhaled loudly.

"Whew. This thing is heavy," Trey wiped away the small beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He was relieved though, because it meant that it really was a statue, despite the fleshy eyes now settled in its head.

"Dead weight," Michael said, suddenly aware of the double meaning of his words. They quickly stood, hoping for some effect to occur.

Christine gasped and the others turned toward her.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked.

Christine's face had paled as her eyes were transfixed on the statue priest's face. Heather, Trey, and Michael turned to see what had taken the blood from Christine's face.

Even though it was a statue, streams of crimson tears poured down his face and began to pool on the floor. The mouth opened and a horrendous scream sounded, the sound reverberated through the gallery.

The sound escalated causing the four bewildered teens to cover their ears and close their eyes, hoping that somehow the screaming would stop.

"Shut up!" Heather screamed.

As suddenly as the screaming began, it ended, leaving behind a pounding silence. The teens looked at each other, trying to find answers in each other, but knowing that none of them could answer for the strange occurrence.

Another loud noise snapped their heads in the direction of the large painting. It scrolled into the ceiling, leaving behind a dark doorway.

"A secret door?" Trey quietly said, more for his own confirmation than anything else.

"I don't know about this," Christine hesitantly said. She still regarded the unmoving statue of the priest with trepidation. There was no way that he was still alive, but the scream was so real.

"We have to find the silent bell," Michael said looking at the map, making a red annotation of the secret door and the mysterious statue. "This is the only way it could be."

Michael tried to take his focus off the priest...especially since the priest had attacked Michael, probably with the intent of killing him. Whatever entity he was loyal to had obviously betrayed him. Served him right.

"Still," Christine continued to argue.

"Standing here is getting us nowhere," Heather said. She began to walk toward the door. Trey reached and softly touched her arm. Heather was surprised but then angered. She snatched her arm away, trying to hide the hint of gratitude for the innocent gesture.

"Sorry. Just, if we're going to go, then we should go together," he said.

Heather suddenly realized how they were relying on her. She was the most experienced of the group in terms of the circumstances going on, and her rough demeanor was probably interpreted as confidence in the face of adversity. Even though the three teens she had joined up with seemed just as determined as her, she realized that they were probably just as disoriented and anxious as she first was.

Michael nodded as he took the lead with Heather, letting the beam from his flashlight pierce the darkness. Trey and Christine followed closely behind almost too closely. However, Michael didn't mind the extra sense of security.

II.

The narrow beam of light revealed a short hallway then a narrow spiral staircase, which ascended into more darkness. Their footsteps were the only sound as they carefully climbed the stairs. The silence was appreciated, but at the same time, it gave a feeling of something waiting to surprise them.

Reaching the top, Michael shined his flashlight around the room. A large, tarnished gold bell sat in the middle of the room, a rope snaking around it. Other than that, the room with sloping walls and a high ceiling was empty.

"Is this the bell?" Christine asked.

Michael walked over to it, the beam of light narrowing to fully illuminate the bell, leaving the rest of the room in an ominous darkness. He turned to the others then turned back to the bell and picked up the rope.

_Ring the silent bell in the darkness...the light shall reveal the passage to..._

The piece of a riddle they had found earlier again came back to Michael's mind. Could this really be the silent bell? It didn't make sense, since bells weren't exactly silent. A large bell like this would surely make a lot of noise, possibly attracting unwanted attention.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he really wanted to ring the bell.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked.

Michael shook his head. "Nothing," he quickly pulled the rope taut and felt something hit the inside of the bell. What scared him most was the resulting flash of light that illuminated the room and the lack of sound that he expected.

Blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted to the darkness broken only by the flashlight, which seemed inadequate compared to the bright flash.

"What was that?" Christine asked.

Michael looked at the others, then let his eyes fall on the back wall. "Look," was all he could say.

The others turned to the wall and saw what Michael saw.

An indescribable picture formed in front of them, somehow alive with its glowing green outlines. It writhed and moved sinfully along the wall, reminding Michael of a pit of snakes, searching for a way out of a deep pit, each one on its own mission.

For a moment, Michael couldn't focus. The idea of the moving image still stood out, but as he looked at it longer, the image finally stated to make sense.

It was a group of naked people, dancing with their hands extended into the air. However, the moving people didn't exactly look right. They were morphing back and forth into indescribable creatures, one of which Michael was the first creature that Michael saw. The dancing townspeople weren't what bothered him though. It was the large eye that seemed to peer right through them.

"Heather," the gravelly whisper was closer than any of them expected.

Trey reached toward the wall and hit a switch, which illuminated the room. The strange depiction disappeared, but the disturbing image stayed in Michael's mid until he saw Heather grasping her head. She fell to one knee.

"Heather?" Michael rushed to her side.

"Get—out—of—my—head!" she shouted through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong, Heather?" Christine stood behind Trey as he kneeled next to Michael.

Suddenly, he room began to wave as if it was simply an illusion that was slowly vanishing. From them, a layer of corrosion, blood, and rush spread out, enveloping the room like a quick spreading cancer.

The floor turned from wood rusted metal grates; the walls into what resembled rotting flesh; the bell into a pulsating, unknown shape. Heather continued to clench her head as the horror finished its spread.

The pounding in her head slowly subsided and she looked around, seeing the frightening, yet familiar degradation of the environment.

Michael and the others looked around at the now permanent condition of the room.

"What in the hell happened?" Trey whispered.

Heather groggily stood, holding her head. "No," she moaned. She knew that somehow, she was still connected to Claudia and the demon Samael. If she hoped to save Douglas, Michael, Christine, and Trey, then they would have to hunt down Claudia, whatever she might be now.

Notes:

Skittlefratz: Thanks for the compliments. Hopefully, Heather's presence in the story will be less annoying and make more sense. I wanted to try to make that solid connection with everything that was going on in Silent Hill and draw Heather's character out a bit more. Hopefully, this chapter shows some of her importance in the story.

Shortey: It's been updated! Hope you like this chapter as well.

Cat: My ever-faithful reader...hope this answers the question of Father Tom...

SlapDash: Well, it seems that Trey's analysis of the eyes wasn't exactly correct...

Fallen Angel-2099: Let me know how you like this chapter!

Kawaru85: I'll make sure to throw some more suspense scenes in there as well as the action. The monster that attacked them was a new, unique monster. Most of the creatures that show up will be unique to the story. They may also be a variation of some older monsters from the series. Let me know if the description of them is not clear or something.

Rodarian: This should clear up what Father Tom sees...now we have to worry about what the foursome sees...


	11. The Butcher's Return

I.

The air became thick and heavy with a certain sense of malevolence. The entire environment suddenly became the four teens' enemy: the grated floors, dilapidated walls, corrosion eating away at everything...it all seemed to be a part of some plan to be rid of them.

The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bell, all of it appeared to be either targets of severe dilapidation or possessed by some living entity that hungered for each piece of the room, eating away at it slowly until it got to the teens. Regardless of the true nature of the warped room, the realization was that everything had suddenly changed for the worst.

"Heather, what happened?' Christine said, huddling closer to Trey than before. It was merely to know that the people she was now paired with hadn't suffered from the same fate.

Heather gazed around with more purpose than abhorrence. "This...this is Silent Hill."

Just that simple phrase chilled the other three to the bone. It was like the realization had finally hit them that there were larger forces at work...larger than any of them could possibly handle. The gravity of the situation suddenly weighted on them, threatening to crush them.

"This can't be," Michael replied, obviously stunned by the transformation. "It just all changed all the sudden...after you screamed. What is all this?"

"A world of pain and dilapidation. This is what they are trying to resurrect Samael for. To turn everything into this. Claudia sees this as paradise."

"You mean this is supposed to be heaven?" Christine asked.

"Do we really need to see Hell then?" Trey retorted.

"I told you, these people are sick. They don't know what they're doing," Heather replied with a hint of agitation in her voice. There was no telling where Douglas was and now, everything was still reverting back to the transformed Silent Hill. If the entire town was like this, then there was no telling what kind of danger he was in.

Michael fumbled around for the map. When he finally got a hold of it and opened it, he let out a sound of disbelief. "The map. Everything's gone. None of the markings I made are here!"

"Let me see that," Trey leaned over Michael's shoulder to get a close look, simply to confirm Michael's statement.

"It has power over everything. Everything changes. It's like it all is affected by this," Heather passed her hand through the air, motioning to the transformed element of the room.

Michael folded the map back up, suddenly aware of his own helplessness. "We need to get out of here," Michael strode toward the door that they entered from.

Heather gave a warning, "We have to be careful now...there's no telling what we'll run into."

"Could it be something worse than what we've already seen?" Trey asked.

"Much worse," Heather replied as she fell in behind Michael.

"Why didn't I just stay in bed?" Trey grumbled to Christine as they followed behind Heather.

The teens opened the door and descended the stairs into a forebodingly dark atmosphere.

II.

The grated stairs showed a dark and dangerous void below them, which alarmed Michael more. His boots tapped on the stairs lightly, but the sound of rubber on metal still resounded through the hallway, as if the stairs were trying to alert whatever horrors beyond the door of their presence.

He kept his gun as steady as possible, but he could feel sweat forming in his palms, making his grip slightly unsteady. The flashlight was the only thing that gave him a shred of confidence. Somehow, the light stood for something powerful, something that the darkness couldn't capture, couldn't taint. As long as they had the light, it was possible, maybe only slightly, but still possible that they could make it out of their situation. However, the question that suddenly came to his mind was _what could possibly be the end state to everything that was going on?_

Pondering on it made the situation seem even more hopeless, so he focused on the stairs again.

Reaching the bottom, he found that the secret door leading to the art gallery was slightly ajar. He glanced back at Heather, who had him covered. She nodded, the signal to let him know that she was ready for whatever may be beyond the door.

He turned and slowly pushed the door open.

The art gallery that they had left was completely gone. However, what remained disturbed them even more. A figure was kneeling in front of a pillar that jutted up into the ceiling. The out of place structure wouldn't have been alarming, except for the fact that the man they had thought to have disappeared was affixed to it.

"Father Tom?" Michael whispered. He could see the robe the priest was wearing, but it was discolored with blood that seemed to have originated from everywhere on the priest's body. His head dangled lifelessly, held up by a combination of effort between his neck and chest. Father's Tom's arms were extended above his head, tied together in a painful position, and his legs were tied together as well.

The figure kneeling on the ground turned slowly toward the teens, who now stood together staring at the scene before them.

"You...do you believe?" the young man hissed.

They immediately knew that this new character was dangerous and slightly off. Besides the messy brown hair, blood streaked pale face, dark eyes, and malevolent stare, his gravelly voice clenched the whole package.

"What did you do to him?" Michael demanded, gun pointed at the man.

The man seemed to be unaware of the gun, or simply didn't care. "Are you a believer? Do you worship our lord Samael?"

"Answer me! What did you do to him?" Michael's voice had unexpectedly risen to a decisive command voice, leaving no room for deviation from what he said.

A low moan escaped the priest. Even though the priest had tried to subdue...maybe murder...him earlier, Michael still didn't want to see anyone else fall victim to Silent Hill.

The priest's head snapped up and he stared at them with two sockets, oozing with blood.

"He lost sight of the path...I gave it back to him," the man said, holding two eyes with meaty muscle. The eyes rested in a small puddle of blood in the palm of his hand.

"Yes. I can see now. I can see," the priest moaned, his voice a mix of pain and exhilaration.

The whole scene was dizzying, and Michael found himself almost losing consciousness. It was as if he was in some nightmare, some frightening circumstance that he had so control over whatsoever.

He backed away from the man, still holding the eyes toward them. The others followed suit, inching toward the door, their eyes still fixated on the man. Michael wanted a reason to fire his gun...he waited for a hint of aggressive movement from the man or some sort of sign that they were in serious danger. Michael was disappointed when the man simply sat there, watching them with his piercing eyes.

"You. You will learn to see too. I'll make sure you do," his voice grew to a whisper, making his words that much more menacing and dangerous.

They slipped out of the door and ended up in the hallway, which was now a strange corridor, marked with doors leading to unknown terrors and peril. They quickly moved down the hallway, hoping to put some kind of safe distance between them and the old art gallery. If the man decided to follow them, they would have a clear advantage of distance. They would have no problem stopping him before he got too close to them.

Michael led the way into the room that was the priest's office, one of the first rooms they had entered before.

Closing the door behind them, Trey moved the desk, which had suffered from the same corrosion as the rest of the church, in front of the door.

III.

They relaxed only slightly. This room was well-lit by a lamp in the corner of the room, the crooked lampshade gave the light an awkward direction, so more shadows were created than dispelled. There was a wooden chair in the middle of the room, which was the only piece of furniture besides the desk.

"Who was that?" Christine broke the silence that had settled over the group.

Heather shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe another victim of this godforsaken hellhole."

"Why did this happen?" Michael asked, his question directed toward the condition of the environment rather than an overarching question regarding their presence in the nightmare.

Heather gave a long, burden heavy sigh. "Somehow, I'm still connected to Claudia and this god. It...it was living inside of me, feeding off of me, creating all of this. But I was able to expel it using this strange jewel my father gave me. However, Claudia took the thing and put it into herself, becoming the vessel for that creature. Somehow, it's still using me to gain power."

"So this—it's your fault?" Christine suddenly attacked.

"If that makes you feel better, then fine. Blame me. But it won't get you out of here any sooner. And if I remember right, I saved you."

"It's your fault that Sean," her aggressive posture suddenly went slack and the life drained from her face. "Sean's dead because of this horrible place. I should have known."

Michael realized that he wasn't the only one that had lost someone when he was dragged into this whole situation. Not only his roommate, but Stacy Aspen as well, had been struck down by one of the nameless creatures of Silent Hill. And now, Christine revealed that she too had lost someone. Michael wondered about Trey and if he had lost anyone close to him.

"There's no way you could have known," Trey calmly said.

"You don't understand," Christine said.

"Heather, is there anyway out of this?" Michael asked, trying to dispel the feeling of despair that was threatening all of them.

"I don't know. It comes and goes. I can't control the changes," she explained.

"Are we safe right now?"

"I don't know," she repeated, obviously agitated at being asked questions she didn't know the answers to. "There's no telling at this point."

Michael was discontent with the answer, but he realized that is was the best that he could expect.

"I don't understand. How did we get sucked into this?" Trey kicked at a small dust ball that had somehow escaped the corroded fate of every other surface in the room.

Heather let her eyes fall to the floor, as if she was in some deep memory. "It calls...this town...it calls to those that have unsettled pasts and unsure futures. Somehow, all of you are connected with this town with something that you've done."

"Something that I've done?" Christine replied, struck hard by the comment.

"I don't know. Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe it just wanted to feed off of your fear, anger, and anything else it can drain from you."

Michael listened intently, realizing that Heather's story from earlier sounded less crazy by the minute. Not voicing his opinion earlier, and despite what he had seen with his own eyes, he couldn't believe that there was some grand scheme that had gone on for several years and had now somehow come to fruition. Not only that, but this new plan somehow involved Trey, Christine, and himself as either victims or something far worse. As time progressed on, the idea didn't seem so far fetched, which scared him even more.

"Has anyone ever gotten out of here?" Michael solemnly asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Heather nodded. "My father escaped. He defeated my mother and took me away from this place as an infant."

"Didn't someone else leave with him too?" Christine quizzed.

Heather looked at the girl with a new interest and a new mistrust. "I really don't know. He never talked about what happened here. I only recently found out about it. Was there someone else with him?" Heather returned the question.

Christine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Heather. "Maybe we should try to find someway out of here. There has to be something."

Trey looked at the ceiling. "Hey, what are those numbers doing up there?"

The other three gazed toward the ceiling. The number 1593 was scrawled in the same handwriting that Michael had seen several times that night.

"I'll write it down," Michael said as he scribbled down the number in a small notepad.

"There's something here too," Christine said from her spot by the desk. She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a faded piece of paper. It was crumpled and worn, but she was able to make out the handwriting.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

Christine glanced over it quickly. "It's some kind of a page from a log or something...maybe a diary. It says: I have found a piece of my lord. I cannot let anyone else see it...it is mine. I will store it safely in the chest under my bed."

"Maybe it's from Father Tom," Heather suggested.

"The man is something else to be able to write with no eyes," Trey added.

"Talking restriction, Trey," Christine said then turned to Michael. "The chest is under his bed, but wasn't this his bedroom from before? There's no bed in here."

Michael glanced around reflexively for he had noticed since they had first stepped into the room that it was vastly different from the room they were in earlier. However, according to the map, it was the same room from before.

"Well, the bed was in the corner over there, so maybe there's some kind of secret passage around there."

He crossed the room with Heather and began to scout the area. Heather found the loose floorboards and pulled them up, revealing a small dark wood chest. She pulled it out carefully, weary of any possible traps or surprises, but there were none. She opened it slowly and was shocked to find a bottle with an unidentifiable, throbbing piece of fleshy substance inside.

"What the hell is that?" Trey asked.

"There's another page to the note I found," Christine said. "The object I found may not be a piece of our lord, but something completely different. Taking it to Vincent, he seemed excited, certain that it was the way to stop our lord. I immediately chastised his heathen thoughts but he seemed to get wound up over the thing. He tried to take it away, but I was able to keep it from his grasp, telling him I was going to let Claudia dispose of it. I quickly left, and returned to the church. I figure I'll give it to Claudia later."

"Is there anything else?" Heather asked.

"No, it ends there."

Heather looked at the clear glass bottle, stained on the inside by the pulsating object. It was disgusting, yet intriguing to watch. It slithered around aimlessly, or so it seemed.

"Maybe we should hold onto this," Heather suggested, handing it off to Michael.

"What if that flimsy glass bottle breaks? I could have a nasty little creature eating up the food and map."

"Probably not. It looks like a parasite," Trey said as he came closer to Heather and Michael.

"Another one of your biology diagnoses? You were wrong about those eyes the last time," Michael replied.

Trey laughed him off. "Look, the eyes were not real. I don't know what the deal was with putting them in the priest's head. What I can tell you is that they were totally different from the eyes that freak had in his hands. Those eyes were definitely real. And this thing," he peered closer to it, "it looks like some kind of internal parasite."

"An internal parasite?" Christine repeated.

"Just the overall structure of the thing. It has no outer layer of skin, nothing to protect it from the environment, it has no appendages to move freely, and no visible mouth. It probably somehow gets inside of its victim and probably eats their insides or something."

"Well, all the more reason for us not to take it," Michael reaffirmed.

"Look, let's put it in the chest and close it. If we lock it with the key, it shouldn't get out, right?"

"You're a packrat. We can't take everything we find," Michael argued.

"In this place, no matter how obscure it seems, everything has some kind of use or double meaning. It's better to take it with us than have to come back for it. Trust me."

"Just make sure that chest is locked," Michael gave up the argument. Surely, Heather had her reasons for taking everything they came across, and by this point, Michael was too distraught to argue or pursue the matter any father. But what would an internal parasite (if Trey was actually right this time) be doing in a place like this?

"Should we just hole up in here for a while?" Trey asked as Michael put the chest at the bottom of his backpack then stacked the food, map and random other things they had picked up.

A loud thud answered his question. They all stopped moving and barely breathed as they listened for another sound.

The sound that followed shook Michael to the bone. The sound of metal being dragged against wood resounded outside of the room and steadily grew in intensity.

"What is that noise?" Christine's voice was a hurried, hushed whisper.

"We have to get out of here," Michael's brown skin suddenly looked less healthy, like he had suddenly become ill.

"What is it?" Heather asked, pointing her gun toward the door.

Michael ignored the question and glanced around the room. He looked at the chair then looked above it. The faint outline of a square door was visible directly above the chair. Judging the distance, they would be able to reach it if they used the chair. The desk was higher, but Michael wanted everything possible, even if it was only a flimsy desk, to be in the creature's way.

"Let's get out through there. Trey, you go first. Help the girls up form there, I'll help them up from here."

"What about—" Christine began.

"There's no damn time. Trey, get up there now!"

Trey moved quickly, aware that Michael's urgency was not something to be taken lightly given the situation. He stood on the chair, which was a little less sturdy than he would have liked. However, it allowed him to push open the door, which opened to a second floor room. Heather handed him her flashlight so he could check the room. Poking his head up slightly, he flashed the beam around the room. It looked simple enough with table and chairs lined up, despite the blood, rust, and filth that covered everything.

Trey pulled himself up quickly, without much difficulty, then turned back down into the room. He thrust his hand down as Heather told Christine to go next. She obeyed without argument.

When Christine was in the room above, Michael told Heather to go. Before she could open her mouth to protest, he said, "Get the hell up there now."

Heather moved quickly. However as she mounted the chair, she heard a sickening crack and splintering wood. A large blade partially protruded through the door, then was yanked out again.

The blade plunged through the door another time, the door offering no resistance, simply falling apart under the pressure.

"Hurry up!" Trey called from his spot. Heather thrust he hand up and was lifted from the chair.

"That chair isn't gong to hold," she said as Christine and Trey pulled her into the room.

"Come on, Mike!" Trey screamed as the door was torn off the hinges.

Michael's eyes widened as the figure shambled into view. The horrible, crazed expression, as well as the deformed face now turned towards Michael. The too familiar blade dragged behind him as he took a step towards Michael.

Michael didn't even hear the shouts of the others as he jumped on the chair. To his dismay, but not surprise, the chair toppled over. When he rose from his fallen position, he saw it was in multiple pieces, broken, his only way out suddenly destroyed.

The creature seemed to sense this because he slowly made his way toward Michael, his blade tearing up the floor behind him.

"Michael, grab my hand!" Trey screamed.

Michael looked up and saw the three horrified faces of the people he now relied on. He got to his feet and leaped toward Trey's hand. Grabbing on, Trey grunted as he attempted to pull Michael up.

The creature reared back and swung his blade at the dangling body.

"Michael!" Christine shouted.

In next moment, Michael pulled his legs up, the blade just missing the lower half of his body. The blade cut through the air with a strong sound, making Michael cringe as he tried to thrust his legs into the passage.

Christine and Heather grabbed his legs before they fell back down again, and between all of them, managed to pull Michael into the room. He rolled to the side and Trey slammed the door shut. He and Heather flipped over one of the tables and pushed it over the door, hoping that the creature wasn't agile enough to follow them.

The teens realized they had been holding their breath. They let out deep breaths filled with fear and relief at the same time.

"We have to get out of here," Michael panted.

They stood and glanced around the room.

"Oh no," Christine said.

Squirming figures affixed to the wall through some kind of fleshy membrane seemed to be reaching for the teens, despite the membranous restraints. The final piece of the scene told them that they were in serious trouble. They reeled at the oozing, bloody holes in the place of where eyes should have been.

Notes:

wrath: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad that everything is coming together in the story and keeping you hooked. I hope this chapter keeps up the suspense

Richard B. Sampson Jr: Thanks for checking out this story too. It's definitely a different direction from my other stories, but I'm glad it is coming off well so far

Rodarian: Let me know what you think of this chapter, and if it puts you in mind of anything else

Cat: I'm glad the puzzles aren't too corny and transparent. Hmmm...you pose an interesting question about the painter...maybe the teens will get the chance to meet him or her...I'll keep that in mind. Yeah, I figured it was time that Christine stepped up her game a bit, but there is more to her than meets the eye...

Shortey: Glad to see you liked the chapter...hopefully, this keeps up with the Silent Hill imagery and creepy atmosphere

Crimson Alessa: Thanks for the hug...it gave me enough fuel to pump out this new chapter. Let me know what you think

Skittlefratz: Yes, Heather can be quite huffy, but I think she will soften up a bit. The more she hangs around the other three, the more she can separate herself from her intertwined fate with Silent Hill

Fallen Angel-2009: Hey, I'll make sure to check out your story. Hopefully, the teens will find out exactly what Christine is up to and why she is so mysterious


	12. Back to Silent Hill

I.

Douglas peered between the narrow slits of the park bench, watching and waiting. He tried to control his breathing, despite the pain in his leg, the headache, the bruises and cuts. If he made a sound, he knew that there was no way he would be able to protect himself.

He only had two bullets left. There was no way he could pull off an assault on the creature that now lurched past the bench. The deformed version of some four-legged mammal moved slowly, carefully...waiting for the smallest hint of the existence of someone drawn into its world. It stopped for a moment, sniffing the air. The air rushed into its nose, blocked by some mucus, so it made a slurping, disgusting sound as it repeatedly sniffed.

As Douglas watched the creature's movements, his mind went to Heather. Where was she? Did something happen to her? What about Claudia?

He tried to push the questions out of his mind, not wanting to face all the possibilities of what could have happened. Heather could have been overpowered by Claudia and now sat helpless. Maybe Heather didn't make it to Claudia at all, falling victim to some new horror that caught her off guard. Maybe Heather defeated Claudia, but was overtaken by her own power.

The more Douglas thought about it, the more unsettled he became. He shouldn't have let her go off by herself. But there was no way he could have stopped her. She knew more about what was going on than he did and Heather was probably the only one that could stop it.

Still, Douglas couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her. She was too young and had already suffered too much. There was no sense in her losing her life too. If anyone should be another victim of this godforsaken hellhole, it should be Douglas, at least that's what he thought.

The malformed animal sniffed a few more times, then shambled down a dark path, becoming one with the ever-increasing shadows. Douglas let out a breath, thankful that he wasn't found, but also to relieve some of the pain he was in right now.

He knew that something had gone wrong once the scenery had changed. Everything went from reasonably sane, minus the creatures, to some kind of dark twisted version. Rust, blood, and corrosion stained everything in site. The ground turned into a steel grate, the only thing separating Douglas from the dark abyss that extended infinitely into the earth. Even the creatures had changed.

Douglas managed to pull himself away from his spot into a more secluded area of the park, biding his time until Heather came back...if she came back. Douglas didn't want to face it, but if Heather didn't come back he had to figure out what he would do. With two bullets, Douglas could think of only one option.

II.

"These people," Christine said disbelievingly. She stared in horror at the writhing, wretched souls that tried desperately to escape their fleshy prison. The writhed and twisted and opened their moths wide in silent screams and perverse manners.

She took an unsteady step backwards and felt a body blocking her path. She spun to be face to face with Trey.

"Let's get out of here," Trey said, still unsure of what they were seeing or what it meant.

"There's a door over there," Michael pointed to the large steely door that looked too heavy to be an escape route, but it was all they had at this point. Michael took the lead, pointing his gun at every wrenching figure, ensuring that they were not caught by surprise. One dangerous movement by any of the figures and they would be dealt with, swiftly and fatally.

Michael walked slowly, his steps deliberate, but at the same time, softly finding their spot on the floor with each step. He just had another close call with—The Butcher. It was a stupid name, but that's all he could come up with instead of just calling it a creature. Michael felt that there was definitely something different between The Butcher and all the other creatures they had run into. The other creatures didn't have a purpose or certain measure of control over themselves, unlike the butcher. He killed Stacy and now, for some reason, The Butcher had now targeted Michael, or so he thought. The Butcher could be simply killing whoever was in his way at the time and Michael just so happened to always be in the way. Either way, having an intimate encounter with that blade wasn't really something Michael wanted to experience.

When he got to the door, he tried to open it, but to no avail.

"It won't open," Michael reflexively said. He wasn't surprised by the blocked path, but it meant that they may have to go back down to face The Butcher.

"Wait, there's something there," Christine said, noticing a small, yet thick book lying near one of the writhing figures.

"Go grab it, Trey," Michael urged.

"You've got to be kidding. It's right near that thing. You have the gun, you go get it," Trey shot back.

Michael grinned sheepishly as he stepped gingerly toward the book.

Heather strode past him confidently and impatiently. "We don't have time for this," she snatched up the book quickly and turned away from the writhing figure. "We have to—"

Heather was both surprised and scared by the sudden wrenching of her arm. Her gun clattered to the floor as she struggled against this new force that suddenly had taken a hold of her.

She tried to quickly wriggle her body away, but she only seemed to make the grip more firm and unyielding.

Michael and Trey immediately rushed over to help.

"Heather, hold on!" Trey shouted as he and Michael swatted at the flailing arms of the figure that was only moments ago totally affixed to the wall. Its upper body was free and it reached for Heather, trying to pull her into its fleshy prison.

Michael found his arm grabbed as well. Before he could react, the body split in half, the one arm lifting Michael into the air, and the other one pulling Heather toward the pulsating trap.

"Let me go!" Michael shouted, still thinking that he was dealing with some kind of rational, normal being. However, the body, now in two halves, refused to give up its new found prey.

Christine was horrified. Not only had one of the squirming prisoners come to life, but now it grabbed at Heather and Michael. Christine took a step toward them when she heard an unsteady step from behind her.

Turning slowly, she peered over her shoulder, and then turned to face whatever was behind her.

Christine was frozen in place by shock and horror. Her windpipe clenched shut, denying her air and blood suddenly throbbed in her head. Her eyes tried to adjust to what she was seeing, but it only made her dizzy as she tried to focus.

Finally, she was able to put a name to what she saw, "Sean."

III.

"Dammit," Douglas groaned as he let himself relax behind his hiding place. The pain was subsiding, but he could feel his body weakening from a lack of sleep and blood loss.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he took a bottle of pills out. The translucent orange of the bottle seemed highly out of place in the dark amusement park. It was a reminder to Douglas that he was still alive and there was a chance to get out of all this.

He took two pills, roughly swallowing the circle pain relievers. He let his head fall back against the cool bench and closed his eyes. Even through the darkness, all he could see was an image of the monsters he had faced. Then through it all, he could clearly see Heather's face.

Somehow, that was enough to assure him that she was alive, and that he needed to stay alive, if not for himself, then for Heather.

He opened his eyes, surveyed the area around him for monsters, then stood. His legs were a little unsteady and he felt slightly queasy, but the feeling soon passed. He took a few slow steps, just to make sure he was able to walk without keeling over. Douglas moved more quickly now, knowing that creatures would be lurking nearby.

Douglas knew had a job to do and he wouldn't rest until it was finished. He would find Heather and anyone else he could save and get them out of this hellhole.

IV.

Claudia Wolf's eyes were milky white, seeing past physical obstructions in front of her, the things normal people would see. The dark wood pews, heavy oak doors, black candles illuminating the large church, all these things were invisible at the moment. Claudia could see beyond the objects within the normal scope of vision. As of now, she was watching the actions of Heather and the teens she had somehow come into contact with.

She watch Heather get snatched by an angel of her lord, restrained to do no more harm to this paradise that would soon encompass everything. The other teens struggled, but would be of no consequence in the grand scheme of things. Their efforts were frivolous.

Claudia smiled as the enhanced vision faded and her eyes began to adjust to the candlelight in the church.

"There is nothing she can do now...her wavering faith in our lord has prevented this for long enough," Claudia stated to the shadows. She could only catch a slight glimpse of a creature crawling across the wall, letting only a glimpse of its body be exposed to the dim light.

Claudia knew what it was. It was one of the higher servants of Samael, Valtiel. He had come to guide her in her quest, giving her silent support and encouragement. Just his presence alone soothed the pain Claudia had now and again. She could feel it growing inside of her, it was gaining strength, not only from her physical body, but from her faith as well. Samael was to be reborn and Claudia would be the mother of a god.

She winced, but let a smile cross her face as she rubbed her distended abdomen area.

V.

When Cybil looked in her rearview mirror, she knew she was in Silent Hill. The street behind her had crumbled away, leaving an impossible chasm to cross. She was actually surprised that her car still worked thus far. She turned on her fog lights in response to the thick fog that settled over the street, leaving only a few feet of visibility.

Cybil looked in the passenger seat. She was prepared this time: a 9mm, several packs of bullets, a shotgun and shoulder strap, a map, Leatherman, flashlight, and pain relievers moved in rhythm with the car as she drove along. She wore black jeans, boots, a light purple blouse, and a black leather jacket that fell slightly past her waist. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a black rubberband. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she realized that she looked years younger, with the exception of the worry and trepidation mixed into her face.

The car moved along slowly, allowing Cybil to scan the immediate area for anything suspicious or any clue that might allow her to figure out where Sean and Christine were. Hopefully, they had not come across anything dangerous, but she knew that it was highly unlikely.

As she drove, her mind wandered to Harry. What was he doing now? Where was he? Was he being called back to this place too? Cybil didn't think to at least call him, but then if she had, would he have thought she was crazy? Even after all these years, Cybil couldn't bring herself to face the horrors of Silent Hill. But now, she was staring right at them.

The car made a terrible noise from under the hood, then slowed to a stop.

Not surprised, Cybil glanced around the dash for some indicator as to what was wrong. Every light was on: the gas light, battery light, oil light, and engine service light blared dauntingly at her.

She sighed, but quickly gathered the items from the passenger seat. The good thing about the leather coat she wore was the pocket space it had. She would have no problem keeping what she had and anything she might come across on her person.

Only five minutes later, Cybil found herself walking cautiously down the street. The first thing the erupted through the fog was a sign for an amusement park.

"The amusement park," Cybil read, her mind returning to her horrific experience there. She was nothing but a victim of Dahlia's as she was possessed by a creature and forced to attack Harry. Luckily, Harry was able to save her, but the experience left her weakened and unable to help Harry. However, she came in time to see him defeat the demon form of Alessa, allowing them to escape to the real world again.

Snapping back to the present, she figured there was no better place to start than where her journey ended last time, the amusement park.

Cybil carefully pushed open the gate and disappeared into the thick fog, unsure of what her destiny would be this time around.

Notes:

Kawaru85: I'm glad you liked the action in the last chapter; the cat fight might just be you...but you have put an idea in my head...keep reading to see what happens...

Rodarian: Glad that the timeline makes a little more sense. Hopefully, other events in the Silent Hill world will be woven in as well.

Shortey: I'm glad to see you liked the cliffhanger. They're needed every once in a while just to keep the characters on their toes.

Skittlefratz: Dreams like that are never fun. I corrected the Michel – Michel thing, laughing as I did so. Glad to see that you are growing fonder of Heather. And I liked your fic by the way : )

Cat: You are quite the clever cat...I can't answer your question, but I will say you're on the right track with Christine. The next chapter should answer your question regarding Cybil and Christine. And as for Douglas, ask and you shall receive

Kronos106: Yes, you are on the right track...Christine is definitely hiding something. Hopefully, Heather will figure it out soon...

Fallen Angel-2009: I'm continuing smile 


	13. Attempted Savior

I.

At one time, the Amusement Park thrived, being the one of the main attractions of tourists staying in Silent Hill. It was easy to imagine children with large balloons in their hands or the stuffed version of the mascot dangling off their arms as they ran frantically, believing they would not have enough time to experience all the attractions the park had to offer. Joyful parents trailed behind their kids, far enough to give them independence, but close enough to watch over them. Both young and old couples probably wandered around aimlessly, simply enjoying each other's company and the lively environment.

Cybil imagined that time was long ago considering the state of the park now. Dark. A simple description, yet it encompassed everything that was wrong with the park. The dark, foreboding sky, the rusted, worn rides unsuitable for any child or adult, the hints of destruction and death that loomed around every corner and under every rock. As Cybil gazed around at the sinister attractions, she found herself having trouble drawing up a scene of lively fun. Her own experience in the Amusement Park shone brightly in her mind, almost blinding her to the shuffling noise from the bathroom.

Cybil turned quickly, her heart racing and blood pumping. She was much more nervous than she thought she would be given the circumstances and her familiarity of Silent Hill. Despite it being seventeen years ago, she found herself feeling the same apprehension and nagging fear that she had the first time she stepped into the town. Still, she moved forward quietly and stealthily, getting the monster in view before it took notice of her.

The monster itself was new to Cybil, which told her several things. The first was that her mind was where it needed to be given the circumstances. She was already assessing the monsters lurking around with less trepidation than she initially had. The next thing was that the monsters had somehow evolved from seventeen years ago, meaning that whatever was at the center of all this was gaining power. And the final thing was that the evil hadn't been destroyed seventeen years ago. Cybil and Harry had been tricked.

Aiming her gun, Cybil fired off three rounds and the shambling monster fell to the ground in a heap, its mass of a body and stubby legs kicking violently in a futile effort to resist death. Cybil walked up to it and planted a boot right in the large part of its body, completing the job.

She rolled her head from side to side and sighed. "I'm back," she said aloud as she held up her gun and proceeded into the rest of the park.

II.

Douglas perked up at the sound of gunshots. When the first one sounded, he thought he was hearing things. Between distant cries of pain, the padding of strange monsters, and his own heart, Douglas didn't particularly trust his hearing at this point. However, he knew gunshots when he heard them and he was sure that they came from near the entrance of the park. Could it be Heather? Or maybe it was some other poor, lost soul? Or maybe someone who had totally lost it and had a gun in their possession? The last thought put Douglas on edge, and he felt his adrenaline and senses heighten.

He checked his gun in the same way he had done several times since leaving his place by the park bench. Satisfied with its condition, he kept to the shadows and made an attempt to move in the direction of the long gone gunshots.

Douglas attempted to creep through the amusement park both as a means of avoiding any further contact with the abominations of Silent Hill and to sneak up on the individual or monster that fired the gunshot.

He kept to the shadows, which were plentiful, and stayed near the buildings. He was still limping slightly, but the pain relievers had kicked in, helping him to focus his senses on staying alive. Despite the limp, he was able to move stealthily from point to point, evading the two monsters that he ran into. Douglas finally reached a popcorn stand, which had a terrible stench emanating from it. He was tempted to open it, but suddenly dreaded what he would actually find inside. He shook his head and turned away from it. Then, he was face to face with the barrel of a gun.

III.

The pain was blinding and unyielding, making Claudia suddenly regret her sacrifice for her god. She quickly chastised herself for having second thoughts about her role and simply gritted her teeth and pulled at the sheets in a painful silence.

Her stomach seemed to have a life of its own, moving and probing the world in ways that it shouldn't be able to do. It would move to the left, then squirm to the right, go partially flat, rise, then start the whole process all over again.

Though the unnatural pain soared through Claudia's body, she refused to scream...refused to let herself be taken over by the pain. Just think, her god had been through so much more than she had. Claudia's pain was merely a fleeting whisper of the pain and anguish her god went through. She knew she had to endure. There was no other way.

She had not noticed the surreptitious exit of Valtiel. Claudia couldn't see the darkness growing even darker, the birth of her god imminent. Claudia couldn't see just how she was a vessel not for a god, but for a demon bent on creating hell's paradise.

Claudia closed her eyes and silently prayed for the strength to make it through and a chance to see just a glimpse of paradise.

IV.

In real life, Sean stood only a few inches taller than Christine. He had sandy blond hair in contrast to her dark straight hair. Tan and muscular, Sean was every girl's dream man, the kind you see in magazines and television shows.

And Christine was that girl next door every guy wanted to have. Smart, popular, and attractive, Christine had it all. Though she had dark hair, her complexion was slightly tanned, accented by her jade green eyes. She stood about 5'7", ran track, and loved kickboxing. Her parents thought she enjoyed too much physical activity, but they supported her nonetheless.

She met Sean in kickboxing class, allowing him to take her to dinner after she surprisingly usurped him in the kickboxing ring. They hit it off immediately and they began dating. They were either the epitome of what every couple wanted to be or they were the envy of those that could never achieve the kind of relationship they had.

When Sean suggested that they take a weekend to visit a small town called Silent Hill, Christine didn't object, especially after reading the brochure for the town. It sounded like a nice getaway spot, somewhere the two of them could decide what they wanted to do with their futures and if they were ready to spend it together. Christine was racked with anticipation for the trip, but she felt a hint, maybe it was intuition, but a hint nonetheless of anxiety. It would only be a matter of hours before that anxiety became a full-fledged feeling of fear.

Christine found herself alone with Cybil Bennett, Sean's mother, on a night that was conducive to horrible things occurring: killers stalking babysitters, nightmare monsters coming to life, teens being chased by some grotesque monster. The rain pelted the windows and the thunder shook the house every so often.

Christine wandered from the living room into the kitchen, where Cybil was just finishing washing the dishes from dinner.

"Ahh...I hear Sean is taking you on a trip this weekend," Cybil smiled over her shoulder.

Christine leaned against the doorway leading into the kitchen. "That's what he said...I'm excited...I think it will be a great chance to relax."

"Where is the dashing prince taking you?"

"Ummm, he said it was a small town. Quiet...no, it was Silent. Silent Hill. That's it. Some town called Silent Hill. It was strange, when we were planning the trip, we couldn't find it on the normal road map that we had, but the brochure has the directions. I figure a place like that would draw in lots of tourists," Christine failed to notice the stunned expression on Cybil's face, the memories that flooded back to her in a matter of seconds, the pain and anguish she went through after returning to Silent Hill. Then something hit her. Something malevolent. Something evil with a desire to kill.

By the time Christine even noticed that something was wrong, it was too late. "Cybil?" she hesitantly said.

Through the foreboding silence, the thunder rumbled through just to make its presence known, then let the silence settle back in.

"That place. You have to stay away from that place," Cybil said. She turned and Christine could see the distance in her eyes. Cybil took slow, deliberate steps toward the girl. "You can't go there. You and my son, you cannot go there!" Her voice began to escalate from a calm, mellow voice, to a direct, authoritative volume.

Christine backed away unsteadily. She found herself pressed against the wall as Cybil approached her.

"What's wrong? Why are you so upset?" Christine managed to get out.

Cybil reached for a large butcher knife on the counter. "Seventeen years ago, that place. Harry Mason. We were trapped there. You and my son. You've been seduced by that place. I have to stop you before you start it all over again."

The woman now approaching Christine wasn't Cybil. She wasn't the sweet caring woman, who only yesterday hugged Christine and told her that she was like a daughter to her. This wasn't the same woman that comforted her when her grandfather had passed away. The blond woman in front of her was no longer the same Cybil that Christine trusted and considered a second mother. The faraway look in her eyes and the knife in her hand told Christine that she was dealing with a stranger...one that intended to do her harm.

"Cybil, what are you doing?" Christine choked out, realizing that Cybil was closing the distance between them.

"Silent Hill—that place—the devil's workshop—that girl—she was the cause—now, it is damned—you will be too—"

Cybil picked up her pace and rounded the corner of the island fast. Christine realized that she was in danger. She dashed to the left and through the doorway. She heard the knife impale itself into the wood doorway right behind where her head had been only two seconds ago.

She stumbled into the living room and fell to the floor. Christine cursed herself for being so clumsy, realizing that she was just like females in situations like this: tripping and falling for no apparent reason.

Christine turned around to see Cybil in the doorway with a knife in her right hand.

"No!" Christine whispered as Cybil took slow steps toward her.

"You must die!" she seethed.

Christine's body seemed to move automatically, picking itself off the floor and running through another doorway into the den. She had to get out of the house. Christine ran to the French doors that led to the backyard. She pulled on them. They moved only an inch or two, but did not provide Christine with an adequate escape route. She turned to see Cybil upon her and bringing the knife down on her.

Christine moved slightly to the side. The knife was lodged into the door frame, giving Christine a window of opportunity. She rammed her shoulder into Cybil, sending the woman to the floor. She tried to run past, but Cybil recovered much more quickly than a woman of her age should have. She grabbed Christine's ankle, sending the young woman crashing to the floor.

Christine grunted as she hit the floor, but immediately tried to squirm away.

"No...you must die!" Cybil proclaimed as she pulled Christine toward her. Christine managed to turn herself over, face to face with Cybil.

It was a quick struggle before Christine found herself with Cybil's hands wrapped around her throat.

"Let me go!" she tried to grab the woman's wrists, tried to loosen her grip, tried to get some leverage, but it was no use. Cybil's slender hands tightened around her throat, completely blocking off all of Christine's air. She could only manage muffled grunts as a wave of unconsciousness passed over her. Christine tried to shake it off, suddenly wondering why Sean hadn't returned yet. There was no way she would survive this predicament, and no one would even know what happened.

Christine gave a final struggle as she looked in the crazed woman's eyes. All she could see was some hint of some past long ago forgotten suddenly vivid in the woman's mind. Some kind of danger, something that Cybil may have thought that she was protecting Christine from. But it had gone too far. Cybil had gone too far.

Christine succumbed to the darkness that nipped at the edges of her vision, with the thought of Silent Hill on her mind.

IV.

The darkness faded into a soft white light washing over Christine's face. She forced herself to open her eyes and take in her surroundings. The first thing she realized was that she was lying on the couch. A glass of water sat on the coffee table within her reach. She heard two voices in the background, speaking quietly in the kitchen.

Christine raised herself on her elbows, but a wave of dizziness halted her ascent, sending her back to her resting position.

Footsteps muffled by the thick, dark blue carpet approached the couch.

"Christine?" Sean smiled as he kneeled next to her.

"Sean? Sean—" she reached out and hugged him, ignoring the slight dizziness that was throwing off her equilibrium. She held him tightly, glad for something real to hold on to...someone she could trust.

Christine glanced up and saw Cybil enter the room and take a place opposite the couch, next to the fireplace. She tensed at the sight of the woman, which drew Sean's attention.

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Christine looked at Cybil, then looked directly at Sean. As she looked into his eyes, she began to doubt herself. Christine glanced back at Cybil who looked nothing like the woman that tried to kill her some time ago...but still, she knew something wasn't right.

"I—I don't know. Something happened," she said, averting her eyes away from Sean.

"I was worried when you passed out in the kitchen while we were talking. I told Sean not to move you, but he insisted on putting you on the couch," Cybil stepped forward but stopped when she saw Christine's expression of doubt. "I have been concerned about you overworking yourself. You're always running around and never taking the time to simply rest."

Christine locked eyes with Cybil, hoping to catch the woman in her blatant lie, but all she could find was a sincere expression, plagued with concern and a hint of relief.

She began to doubt herself...what is she had simply fainted in the kitchen and imagined everything that happened? But why would she have imagined such a strange thing: Cybil trying to kill her? It was crazy, too crazy for her to just imagine. Yet...

Christine sat upright and swung her legs past Sean. "I think I need to go," she simply said. Sean frowned and lightly touched her shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay? We could postpone the trip..." Sean began.

"No," Christine replied more strongly than she meant. "No, I...I just think I need to lie down. We've been planning this for a while, I'm really looking forward to spending this time with you."

Christine managed a smile, despite the throbbing in her head and her uneasiness of Cybil. She locked eyes with Cybil for just a moment. In that split second, she swore that she saw a look that told her she was making a big mistake.

She hugged Sean quickly, grabbed her coat, and left the house.

V.

Now as she stood before Sean, and all she could see...the eyes of someone with death as their goal. He shambled along, taking purposeful, yet unsteady steps toward her.

Before she could call his name, she noticed the blood seeping down his face, the paleness of his skin, the way his mouth gaped open.

"Sean...?" she whispered. Christine totally forgot about the situation with Heather, Trey, and Michael...forgot that Michael and Heather were in the grasp of one of the strange figures melded to the wall...forgot that Trey was struggling to free them. All she could see is her boyfriend, who hours ago died in a car accident, now walking toward her.

"Christine, get away from him!" Trey called glancing back over his shoulder.

"Christine," the low, guttural, possessed voice of Sean now called to her, beckoned her to follow him into a distant, cold world.

"St...stay back," she stammered, unsure of this new turn of events. What was he doing there? What did he want with her? Was he going to attack her? These questions kept circling about in her mind, yet she couldn't find an immediate answer for any of them.

Trey fought against the malformed figure even more vigilantly, realizing that Christine was in danger as well. However, the figure's neck unexpectedly extended and its head struck Trey in the face, knocking him to the floor.

"Trey!" Heather called, still struggling against the seemingly unbreakable grip of her captor.

She couldn't break free of the figure's grip. Once a person, the strength it wielded told Heather that it was no longer a person but a puppet of Silent Hill. The sickening drip of internal liquids resounded throughout the room as Heather and Michael struggled against the separate halves of the figure.

Trey lay unmoving on the ground.

Christine only remotely heard Trey collapse on the ground. Her body began to respond to her desire to escape. She began to back away from the advancing corpse in front of her.

"Why?" she whispered.

Sean's head moved erratically back and forth as he advanced. His body began to move in a jerky fashion as well, like he was a roll of film that had some part cut out, so he simply moved from one position to another, without the normal fluidity of movement.

"Christine, get the gun! Shoot it!" Michael shouted.

She backed up a few more steps, unsure of what to do. She was struggling with the image of Sean that she had and this new malformed Sean that staggered toward her. It was like he had been transformed...no longer was he the loving, sometimes overly-concerned boyfriend, he was now a monster. Sean was nothing more than a creature of this place...Silent Hill.

"Sean," she whispered. The hot sting of tears rushed to her eyes not from fear, but from the knowledge that she would have to be the one to kill him. She suddenly wished she would have refused to come...listened to the demented Cybil...but she didn't. Now she was stuck in a nightmare that she may not come out alive. Still, she had to try...she had to make it out of Silent Hill. She had to tell Cybil the truth and find out what the woman knew about Silent Hill, and why she let them go.

"Christine, look out!" Michael shouted as Sean reached for her.

Michael's voice snapped Christine into action. She turned and saw Heather's gun on the grated floor. Leaping for it, she grabbed it in a forward roll, twisted, and turned on one knee towards Sean. The gun was pointed directly at Sean, but the sound of a shot did not immediately sound. Christine held her pose, reluctant to shoot. The memories of everything they had flooded back to her, but the memory of what Cybil did to her burned brightly, and then the thought of Silent Hill and what this place really was.

She fired.

Twice.

Four times.

The figure crumpled to the floor, defeated.

Christine paused for a moment, letting herself stay in the position she fired in: down on one knee, both hands on the gun, eyes locked on her target. And then, she crumbled to the floor, the tears finally falling.

Michael felt the figure loosen its grip and suddenly, Michael found himself falling. He landed on his feet, and looked over to see Heather free from her trap as well. Trey began to stir and sat up slowly.

The room began to change, melting from the corrosion, blood, and rust to tile, plastered walls, and ceilings.

"What is going on?" Michael watched as the environment changed to what they were used to seeing, a normal room. Pictures on the wall, tables and chairs, as well as books scattered about.

Heather was beside Christine helping her to her feet. She heard the click of the door and said, "The door's open now. We should get out of here."

Michael turned and looked at Trey, who was looked around amazed as well.

"We're in way over our heads," Trey said.

"What gave you the first clue?" Michael responded. He looked in the place that the figure that attacked Christine had fallen. In the place of his body was some kind of journal. Michael picked it up and opened it, turning to the first page.

_I haven't talked to Harry in years...we never mention what happened in that town...that horrible place called Silent Hill. We parted ways with an unspoken understanding never to talk of that place again. But now, seventeen years later, my son has found it...or it has found him. Maybe it's trying to get back at me...maybe I wasn't supposed to escape...maybe we both were supposed to die there, but somehow, we made it. But it wants me back. I can feel it calling me, driving me insane. Instead of me, it has found my son and his girlfriend. I can't let them go there...they cannot go there...it will get what it wants...I have to stop them, even if I have to kill them._

Michael finished reading and looked up at Christine, who still hadn't recovered.

_I have failed, but I know that my son is taking her there. When I went into his room, I found White Claudia, a small bag of it, but I recognized it immediately. They have had my son for I don't know how long and I didn't even know it. My son is taking her there to make her a part of that cult there or something worse. I have to stop it once and for all. I'll go to Silent Hill, even if it means my death. Cybil Bennett_

Michael walked over to Christine with the journal and gave it to her. "Maybe you should see this," Michael solemnly said as he handed her the journal.

Christine read through it quickly, and, stunned with disbelief, handed it back to Michael.

"It's true then...Cybil...she tried to kill me...she tried to stop me from coming here. And Sean..."

"It mentioned White Claudia. What is that?" Trey asked.

Michael reached in his backpack and pulled out a small plastic bag filled halfway with white powder.

"This is White Claudia. It's run rampant at the school. People are taking this like crazy. It supposed to have some kind of hallucinogenic properties."

"Where did you get that?" Heather quickly asked.

"Well, I found it in one of the rooms I was trapped in at school. It was beside this strange symbol and a note talking about the day of reckoning arriving and something about the rebirth of paradise."

Heather thought for a moment. "Did the symbol look like that?" she asked, pointing to a chalk board.

Michael followed her gaze to see a strange symbol, a purposeful drawing of circles, triangles and strange writing.

"That's exactly it," he said.

"So, there's this drug, which is somehow tied to this cult that runs around this town, which is tied to this whole nightmare we're going through. Heather here was supposed to give birth to this evil god or something, but this crazy lady Claudia is now birthing the thing. On top of that, we are trapped here and following clues that someone, or something is laying out for us, but what are we following them to?" Trey summarized.

"It wants us. Samael and Claudia are calling to us," Heather ominously replied.

"Wait. The journal. Cybil's coming here!" Christine exclaimed. "We have to find her...she'll be torn apart by whatever's lurking around here."

"We have to find Douglas first. Maybe he knows something about this Cybil," Heather impatiently said. "We're going to the amusement park."

Neither Michael nor Trey argued as they made their way to the door. Christine turned around once more to the spot where Sean's body had fallen. He had disappeared along with the corrosion.

Christine tried to forget about Sean, forget about the accident, forget about Cybil. All she wanted to do was escape from Silent Hill and never look back.

Notes:

Wrath: No matter when you review, I always appreciate it.

Richard B. Sampson Jr: Glad you like the story so far. It's definitely different from my Gen X stories.

Cat: Hopefully, this question answered how the three of them ended up in Silent Hill. In case you don't recognize her or haven't played the first Silent Hill, Cybil is the police officer that helps Harry periodically through the game.

Kaworu85: Glad you are liking the appearance of Cybil. It never was really clarified what happened to her after the first game, so I figured she would be as good of a character as any to bring back. Hopefully, this chapter puts a little more of the spotlight on Christine and gives you some insight into why she is the way she is at this point in the story. Let me know what you think!

Skittlefratz: Thanks for the compliments. I hope this chapter explains some things and leaves you waiting for the next chapter.

Fallen Angel2009: That's too bad that you're grounded, glad you could jump on the computer real quick to review.


	14. Evil is Born

I.

The pain had forced Claudia to lie down. It—no, not an _it_, but her god—was growing, but her god was growing faster than Claudia realized. Claudia's stomach protruded out grotesquely and whatever was inside of her moved around much more frantically than it should have been able to. Valtiel stayed silent in the corner, simply watching and waiting.

The bed was harder, the room darker, the walls closer. Claudia was remotely aware of the room seeming to close in around her, attempting to suffocate her. The air was thick...almost too thick to breathe. Claudia found herself desperately sucking in air, feeling as if she would never get enough.

"I will endure this pain for my god," Claudia moaned. Her eyes were clenched tight and she pulled at the sheets, tossing her head back and forth. Her usually pale face was white as freshly fallen snow, broken up by the dark circles under her eyes, and her pulsating dark blue blood vessels snaking across her face and down her body.

Claudia suddenly thought for a moment, wondering if she was indeed the mother of her god or if she was birthing something totally different. Her god would not put her through this pain, right? Surely, the resurrection was to be painless and comforting with everyone rejoicing and celebrating. But she was alone, alone in the church and in her room, struggling to maintain consciousness as her god grew within her.

For a moment, she caught a vision, a vision of a corroded, evil version of her room, decorated with rust and degradation, sprinkled with blood and hate. It was only for a moment...when her vision cleared, she was back in her room, with Valtiel standing in the light, appearing to be an angel.

She cursed herself through her pain for having a weak spirit and stopped fighting against the pain. It was what she deserved...she was weak and needed to be stronger than ever before.

II.

The hole was dark, but Douglas knew what was hiding within the darkness: a bullet. He peered around the barrel of the gun to the hands that were holding them, to the black leather jacket pulled over a purple blouse, to the resolved expression staring at him.

"You have three seconds to tell me who you are," Cybil stated.

Douglas leaned back against the popcorn stand, both for balance and to relax.

Cybil cocked the gun. "I'm not playing with you. I won't hesitate to shoot."

"Look lady, just calm down. I'm not the enemy here," Douglas rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm Douglas, Douglas Cartland. And you?"

"And why are you here?" Cybil responded.

He sighed. "You must be a cop."

"And you obviously aren't. What are you doing here?" she tried to maintain her steely calm, but she could feel her heart begin to race. What if he was really some kind of agent for Silent Hill? Or maybe some demented creep that would move too fast and snatch the gun out of her hand then have his way with her? Or maybe some monster in disguise that would sprout tentacles and lash out at her before she could shoot? In this place, there was no telling. Cybil pushed the horrible thoughts aside as she took a steady step away from him.

He sighed again, noticing her emerging trepidation. "I'm just a private investigator. I was sent to search for a girl named Heather Mason."

_Mason?_ Cybil immediately thought of Harry, then thought of Cheryl, then the whole incident flooded back to her. Then the baby Harry had as they ran from Silent Hill. Could the evil have found Harry and his daughter again?

"Heather Mason?" she repeated more to herself than anything. She noticed that she had relaxed a little, but corrected her mistake. She kept the gun pointed right at Douglas's head.

"Yeah, you know her?"

"No," Cybil said with uncertainty. She studied Douglas more closely. He looked about ten, maybe fifteen years her senior, his face worn and troubled. His nose had been broken once, maybe twice, judging from the slightly pronounced shape. His green eyes were faded and his grey hair was limp. He seemed harmless enough, but then again, nothing was as it seemed in Silent Hill.

Cybil decided to keep the gun on him, despite coming to the conclusion that Douglas was harmless. "Why were you looking for her?"

He shook his head, as if he didn't want to retell the story. Yet he began, "It was this woman, Claudia Wolf...she wanted me to find this girl. And I found her...which is where all this started."

"What happened?"

"I'm sure you've seen for yourself. These monsters and all this...weirdness."

Cybil gasped. If that girl really was the baby Harry took from Silent Hill and Silent Hill had found her, they were in serious trouble.

"Where is she now?"

Douglas shook his head. "I don't know. She went after Claudia, and I haven't seen her since. I was hoping I would find her somewhere in this park." Douglas paused for a moment. "Look, I'm not going to do anything...you don't have to keep your gun in my face."

"How can I be sure that you're not in league with everything that's going on?"

"Believe what you want. I'm going to find Heather whether you trust me or not, lady." He paused then looked at her suspiciously. "So exactly why are you here? Judging from the lack of people in this town, not just anybody is free to wander around this place."

Cybil paused for a moment, realizing how it must look from his end. She changed her stance and put the gun away. "Better?"

"Yeah," he said. "So what are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for someone. My son and his girlfriend. They were coming to this town for a weekend getaway. I tried to stop them, but—"

"Stop them...? Why?"

"I don't have time to explain right now," Cybil quickly stated. "I hope you find Heather," she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, wait a minute. You're not going to go off by yourself."

"You think I can't handle myself? I'm a cop, remember?"

"Look, lady, there are some strange things out there."

"I know."

"You're the only other person I've run into since this whole craziness started, and you seem sane, maybe we should stick together, at least for a while."

Cybil thought for a moment. He seemed genuine enough and being with him couldn't hurt. It may make battling any other monsters easier. Besides, he seemed like he needed someone to be with at this point. There was no telling what he had seen, but it wouldn't have been good.

"Look, I still don't trust you...and if you pull anything that I even think is suspicious, I won't hesitate to...defend myself."

"No need for threats. I'm in this just like you are," Douglas calmly said. He walked past her, limping slightly. "Are you coming?"

Cybil nodded as she readied her gun again.

III.

The transition happened in a flash of light as they passed through the door. Only moments before, strange creatures writhed from the walls, grabbing any unsuspecting passerby as assistance to whatever unholy power presided over this town. Yet still, Christine found herself face-to-face with her boyfriend, who she had to kill. After that situation subsided, they found strange journals, which had somehow made their way from someone's desk drawer, under their bed, behind the boxes on a high shelf in the closet to the floor of the decrepit church. It was more than mere coincidence...the journals gave insight and information that they didn't have before, which meant that someone or something was leading them along. When they passed through the door that opened after Christine finished her "duty", a blinding white light pulsed once, then vanished. It eradicated the corrosion, decay, rust, blood, and metal floors, changing them back to their original state: slightly off white walls, dark wood floors, and dimly lit hallways.

"Everything's back to normal," Christine said.

Heather glanced around cautiously. "Not entirely. We're still in Silent Hill. Nothing's ever normal."

The comment gave Christine an uneasy feeling. Michael and Trey led the way, as Heather and Christine trailed behind.

The church was silent, yet they could feel the silence being nothing more than a prelude to something terrible. They all had the unspoken feeling that they were being watched, evaluated. And it was only a matter of time before that presence made itself known.

Without further incident, they made their way though the hallways, into the main area of the church where they had initially met Father Tom, then out of the large, heavy doors into the foggy twilight.

"It's quiet out here," Trey noticed. It was only a while ago that the city was hosting its annual event, the streets overrun with tourists and sightseers. It was then that Trey witnessed the transformation of some of the townspeople into terrible monstrosities. No they weren't transformed by some magic spell or some evil wizard. It was as if they did so willingly.

Michael briskly crossed the street to the car he used to get here. He stuck the key in the ignition and tried to start the car, but nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked.

Michael popped the hood and got back out of the car. "Something's wrong," he stated. He moved purposefully around the car, fumbled for the release latch then lifted the hood. The others surrounded him as he stared disbelievingly into the open space.

"The engine's been ripped out," Michael quietly said. The only thing left were dangling wires scratches and dents where something had forcefully sabotaged their only means of escape.

"We'll walk from here," Heather said, already adapting to the situation.

"What is this?" Michael's voice escalated surprisingly and was directed toward Heather. She turned a bit surprised by the accusatory tone in his voice. "Why are we here? What is keeping us trapped in this place? It's playing games with us...leading us on some wild goose chase just to hunt us down one by one?"

Heather smiled cynically. "You're asking the same questions I stopped asking some time ago. There're still some things I don't understand myself. All I know is that I can't just give up. That's what Claudia wanted. That's what this place wants. Despair, anguish, suffering, anger, fear. This god they want to bring back feeds off of all those things. I won't let it win. I won't."

Heather turned and began to walk down Nathan Avenue. Michael realized that he was yelling at the wrong person, taking out his frustration and fear on Heather. It wasn't her fault, despite the connection that she had with the town. She was just as much a victim of this place as they were.

Trey saw the look of anger fall from Michael's face, replaced with a look of fatigue.

"Hey," Trey put his hand on Michael's shoulder, "we're going to get through this."

"Yeah..." Michael distantly replied.

Christine gave a wan smile, and Michael couldn't help to think that maybe, just maybe, they would all survive this nightmare. But the reality of the situation kept settling in and Michel somehow knew that the horrors they had already encountered were just a prelude to the real evil of Silent Hill.

IV.

Claudia could feel her life slipping away as each moment passed. Her mind had stopped registering pain after the god she was nursing in her womb exploded out of her. She couldn't move, could barely breathe, and was slowly losing her sight, darkness creeping in from every direction.

Reluctantly, she glanced down o her midsection. Her dress was torn and her body was nothing more than a bloody mess. A quick glance around the room showed her the force that her god had used to be born. Blood and other bodily fluids stained the walls and floor, even the ceiling. The once crisp white sheets were crimson red. The dark comforter was even darker with stains of blood.

She closed her eyes, no longer having the strength to keep them open. Everything had happened so fast, she wasn't able to even see her god, but that didn't matter. She knew what her god looked like in her heart. Claudia had done her part. She sacrificed herself for the greater good. Heaven would open its doors and invite her in without hesitation, into a peaceful, eternal existence.

However, even with her shallow breaths, she could smell smoke. Forcing her eyes open, she saw that somehow, fire was quickly enveloping the room. She wasn't able to cry out, nor could she even see where it had come from. It was as if the fire was alive, ready to claim Claudia as its victim.

But, that wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had given birth to a god...surely this was not her fate. She doubted herself again, her mission, her purpose, and why she had sought out Heather. Nothing seemed right...it was so confusing. The hate, the fear, the anger, the pain...these things weren't what her god was supposed to bring. Yet, that was all she felt.

No, it wasn't a god. She had been fooled, tricked. All of her life she had been lead to believe that Alessa would birth a god, but there was something wrong with the story...there was something underhanded that happened. Alessa became a pawn for The Order, and now Claudia realized she was a pawn too. A dead pawn.

She closed her eyes and shed a tear, as the flames flickered over her already damaged body. Someone else was behind all this. There was someone else that was pulling the strings. She wasn't as righteous or holy as she thought. She knew that she was no better than the hapless souls that wandered this town. Nothing but a means to an end...and now, her god had found a way to be born. But what was it? What would happen now? And where was Heather?

Claudia knew that she would die. She had known that since she first began on her crusade, but she always imaged herself to die an honorable death. Something heroic or gallant, yet here she was, pieces of her splattered throughout her room and about to be consumed by the fires of hell. Maybe it was what she deserved. She didn't know.

Her eyes closed one last time as the smell of burning flesh filled her last few breaths.

Notes:

Wrath: Thanks for the awesome review. As you can see from the latest chapters, Cybil and Christine are indeed intertwined.

Richard B. Sampson: I'm glad you're reading and liking the story. Hope you like the new chapter.

Kaworu85: Glad you like how the events turned out for Christine and Cybil. Christine did have a rough spot in the story, but hopefully, things will pick up for her. Cybil, like Harry and Heather, really didn't go that far away to live. They were all under the impression that everything was fine (even though it really never is). You'll have to wait and see on Cybil's sanity. As you can see from this chapter, she is quite capable...like the old Cybil we know and love.

Crimson Alessa: First of all, I'm glad to see you out of trouble. Glad that you enjoyed the chapters, and now you have a new one to enjoy.

Shortey: Yes, I finally updated again. College finals have been keeping me busy, but I should have lots of free time now, so I can keep the story rolling.

Rodarian: Okay, I like the Heather Locklear or Farah Fawcett comparison to Cybil. Glad you like Cybil's reintroduction into the story.

Cat: Yeah, I thought that Cybil was an interesting character and she just totally disappeared from the series. I like using underused characters and stuff, so I'm really enjoying writing her. As for the Amusement Park, I don't know if they will even get there evil grin .

Skittlefratz: Thanks for the encouragement. I hope this chapter keeps up with the others in terms of description and suspense. Let me know what you think.


	15. Venture Into the Darkness

I.

The fog lingered thickly in the air, its sole purpose to obscure and hide the town. It served its purpose well, ebbing and flowing though the streets and alleyways. Nothing was spared as the fog continued to hang.

Michael peered down the street, disturbed that it disappeared into a sea of nothingness. There was no telling what exactly lay behind the curtain of fog, but he knew it wasn't good.

Doubt and fear settled in, despite Michael's best efforts to drive them away. His roommate and Stacy Aspen had both been attacked and killed by something unseen, yet dangerous. The butcher—the only name Michael could come up with—was still pursuing them relentlessly. On top of that, they were stuck in Silent Hill, with someone or something leading them toward a potentially miserable destiny.

Still, Michael couldn't give into despair. He knew that he couldn't just give up. There was a reason that the four of them had been put together in this town and that at least gave him the strength to go on.

"So what now?" Trey asked. He sat at the edge of a sidewalk near the car. He kept his wooden plank within arm's distance in case something unexpected happened, which he expected.

Michael looked at Heather. "Isn't your friend still at the Amusement Park?"

She shook her head. "I don't know...but we shouldn't hang around here."

"Well, let's try to—" Michael began, but then stopped. He felt something shaking, vibrating. It was the ground—no, something closer—his phone. Michael fished in his pocket and pulled out the phone. It vibrated softly at first, then the vibrating was much more aggressive.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked, the alarm in her voice plainly evident.

Michael pulled out the 9mm Beretta and scanned the immediate area around them. The fog seemed thicker than before, concealing whatever horror making its way toward them. Heather quickly followed suit. Trey stood and closed the distance between himself and the others.

Heather first heard flapping, then felt something past too fast over her head. She ducked instinctively, then scanned the sky for whatever was there. The fog grew thicker, as if serving as a cover for the flying monstrosity. Heather pointed her gun toward the flapping noise, but couldn't find her target.

"What the hell was that?" Heather shouted.

"I didn't get a good look!" Michael replied, his heart suddenly racing. Whatever the monster was, it was something they hadn't seen before and if it was flying, that made it ten times more dangerous than the small creatures they had seen so far.

A piercing scream broke the silence that had befallen the teens. Christine threw up her arms as the flying creature erupted from the fog, diving right toward her. Trey reacted quickly and knocked her to the side, throwing his own body to the ground as the monstrous bird arched upward again into the sky.

Michael lost sight of it again, but backed against the car to make sure it didn't sneak up on him. He had only caught a glimpse of the fast-moving creature, but the features that he could make out told him that it was obviously dangerous. Long neck, sharp features, jagged teeth. All these things told him that the creature wasn't there to be man's best friend. Michael barely breathed, racked with shock and disbelief.

The creature's leathery wings flapped noisily above them, yet the sound was so distorted that they couldn't tell where it was.

Heather kept her gun aimed at various places in the sky, but she knew that the next dive could be from anywhere. "Where is it?" she asked simply out of necessity than truly expecting an answer.

The creature appeared again only missing Michael's head by a few inches. He didn't have time to shoot, only to fall to the ground to keep himself from becoming this monster's victim.

"I can't hit it," Michael yelled. "We have to get inside!" From a crouched position on the ground, Michael scanned the street and saw a movie theater only about thirty feet away. "The movie theater. Head there!"

"Where?" Trey yelled.

"To the left," with that, Michael got to his feet and ran. He knew the creature could see him, he knew it was waiting for the right time to swoop down on him, making him an example to the others. Still, he couldn't stop. His arms and legs now moved synchronously for self-preservation. He could hear the footsteps of the others as they trailed behind, but he could also feel the hard vibration of his phone. Then, he heard the flapping again. They weren't going to make it.

II.

Though Cybil found herself paired with Douglas Cartland, who she had found in the Amusement Park, she didn't feel anymore safe now than when she was alone before. In fact, she felt more vulnerable because she didn't know if she could really trust Douglas or not.

Cybil remembered that people trapped in Silent Hill were there for a reason, and most of the time, that reason wasn't good. Most people were either murders, psychopaths, or needed serious psychological help. Douglas didn't seem to fit into any of those categories, but at the same time, she couldn't be too careful.

"How did you get drawn into all this?" Douglas's raspy voice cut the thick silence.

Cybil kept her eyes staring forward, trying to separate the features of the different attractions from the ever-present fog. Her story was too complex to tell, besides, she didn't have much confidence in Douglas's story.

After a few moments, she simply said, "Like I said, I'm looking for my son and his girlfriend."

"Son and girlfriend, huh? I can't say I've seen anyone else here, except this weird Vincent guy. And Claudia."

"Claudia and Vincent?"

"Yeah. Two crazies if you ask me. Claudia hired me to find Heather, and I thought this Vincent guy wanted to help, but my gut instinct tells me there's something wrong with him too. He led me right into a trap with Claudia."

"Well, people here—" she began, but suddenly slowed her pace. She reached for Douglas's arm drawing his attention. They both stopped walking, and listened.

The distorted horns and piano of a ride floated toward them. On any normal day, it would have been an inviting sound, drawing in gleeful children and smiling adults. However, today, it was a song of evil, a melody of death calling to Cybil and Douglas.

"It's coming from over there," Douglas pointed toward the funhouse.

A lone girl stood in front of the funhouse door, appearing as though she were trying to decide whether to go in or not.

"Hey, little girl!" Douglas called. She didn't respond.

Cybil walked cautiously toward the girl, keeping her gun harnessed as to not alarm her. "Excuse me," Cybil softened her voice to get the girl's attention. Douglas followed behind, but kept his gun ready.

Cybil was close enough to reach out and touch the unresponsive girl's shoulder, but she hesitated. There was something completely wrong about this whole setup. Why was a young girl standing in the middle of the Amusement park, seemingly unharmed, staring aimlessly at the funhouse?

"Little girl?" she softly repeated.

"I lost my teddy bear in the funhouse," she replied. She turned toward Cybil now, her dark brown hair limp and tangled. At one time, it appeared as though her overalls were a light blue, but now they were dirty and stained along with her light pink t-shirt. Her light blue shoes gave away that she had run through a lot of mud or something else.

"Hey, is she alright?" Douglas asked.

Cybil put her gun away and kneeled down beside the girl. "Where are your parents? Did something happen to you?"

"My teddy bear," she repeated. She raised her hand slowly and pointed toward the entrance of the funhouse.

"Douglas, I think she's in shock. Something's wrong."

"Teddy," she sounded farther away and slightly confused.

"Do you have a name? How old are you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Though Cybil bombarded the girl with questions, the girl's dark eyes continued to stare through the darkness of the funhouse, as if she could see the wanted toy through all obstructions.

"I don't think she's going to answer back," Douglas put away his gun, but stood a few feet away.

Cybil studied the young girl. She could have been about eight years old, but her sunken eyes, flaccid dark hair, and pale skin made her look haggardly and old. She moved her body only slightly, but even that small movement was stiff and unnatural.

"Maybe we could find the girl's bear," Douglas offered.

Cybil nodded and stood. "Even though it sounds strange, I agree. There are a lot of unsolved mysteries and unexplainable puzzles everywhere. This may help us figure out what's going on." She looked at the girl again, "Maybe we should take her with us."

Douglas shook his head. "There's no telling what's inside of that funhouse. She at least has a chance to run if she's out here."

"Should we just leave her alone?"

"I don't think she's going anywhere."

Cybil didn't immediately agree, but she understood his logic. If the girl was indeed a creation of Silent Hill, then they would be better off leaving her out here. And if she wasn't, she wouldn't be trapped inside of the funhouse with them and whatever demon may lie within.

"Listen," Cybil kneeled beside the unresponsive girl again, "stay right here. We're going to find your bear, then get you out of here, okay?"

The girl continued to gaze into the darkness of the funhouse.

"Okay?" Cybil said, lightly touching her shoulder.

There was still no response, but Cybil _felt_ like the girl heard her, and at this point, that was enough to set Cybil at ease.

She pulled her gun out of its holster and checked the bullets. Satisfied, she turned to Douglas who had done the same.

"Are you ready?"

Douglas nodded.

Cybil led the way into the darkness of the funhouse.

III.

The movie theater retreated into the fog from the fleeing teens. Michael could envision the creature jumping on his back and pecking at the back of his head until it accesses his soft, fleshy brain, then plunging its narrow head into the hole, enjoying its feast. Michael pushed the macabre thought from his mind and concentrated on running.

Michael realized that the theater wasn't retreating, it was simply his own imagination threatening to defeat him. Before he knew it, he was at the door. He pulled it open, not having the time to be surprised that it was actually open. He held it open, then spun with his gun in hand.

"Get inside!" he yelled. By this time, there were five or six of the creatures flying above the teens. Michael aimed carefully and fired, but the creature dodged the bullet gracefully and stayed on its path.

Christine, Trey, then Heather dashed through the door. Michael decided to give up on shooting the creatures and spun inside the door, closing it behind him. He suddenly realized that the doors were glass, unsuitable for holding out any kind of monstrous creatures that happened to have chased hapless teens into the theater.

The tinted glass bent inward from the impact of the creatures, but much to Michael's surprise, it didn't break. The creatures attached themselves to the door and large paneled windows, claws scraping and searching for the slightest weakness that would allow them to get into the teens' sanctuary.

Michael took steady steps back from the glass his gun pointed at the creatures.

"Are they going to get in?" Christine asked.

"Let's hope not," Trey replied, his eyes fixed on the doors and windows. He scanned the area for any spot that would provide an entry point for the creatures, but aside from the doors and large paneled windows, there was no other way in through the front.

"We have to find another way out," Heather said.

They kept their eyes on the creatures beyond the tinted glass for a few minutes, ensuring that the monstrosities weren't faking them out, waiting until they turned their backs before smashing through the glass and making short work of them.

"This is a movie theater?" Heather said as she gazed around.

The movie theater was much more modern than the church. To the left was a game room with large arcade games and an air hockey table in the middle of the small room. To the right was a small restaurant area, Tom's Diner. It resembled an old 1950's diner complete with swivel chairs around the counter and a checkered floor. Booths lined the walls and darkly tented windows. There were a few tables lined neatly in the open area between the counter and the booths. Straight ahead was the concession counter with three different places for patrons to line up and grab some unhealthy, yet satisfying food.

Michael glanced around slowly, not able to admire the posters lined up on the walls, the bigger than life images of popular actors and actresses, the still lingering smell of popcorn and butter. He only saw everything as a new threat. The ominous darkness that the hallways leading to the theaters created, the unopened doors that led from the counters, and the multiple hiding places for some kind of slinking, stealthy creature to creep from.

"There should be some kind of emergency exit," Heather added. "Let's head down this way," she began, but stopped when they heard one of the doors behind the concession stand swinging back and forth as if someone had just entered.

"What was that?" Christine asked. It was another reactive question, more than a question that required an immediate and satisfying answer.

Michael had his gun drawn and pointed toward the door, Heather was the same, but she held her ground. Michael, with a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, slowly approached the door. Was it the butcher? Could it be one of the creatures that somehow snuck into the theater? Was it some crazy citizen, enticing them into a trap? Was it his roommate, ready to take revenge for his death? Or maybe it was Stacy, brought back through some demonic means, waiting to suckle on their bones.

He fought against his imagination sent into overdrive with everything that had happened so far and focused on what he could actually see, which at this point was simply a swinging door.

Trey followed in behind Michael, his wood plank ready to strike. Michael moved carefully across the floor, then over the countertop, then stood only a few feet from the still swinging door.

A pierce scream sounded, catching Michael and Trey off guard. Then, it was followed by a spatter of blood on the inside of the door, seen only through the cloudy, circular window set high in the door.

Michael felt a spike of fear pierce his body. If he would have been faint-of-heart, he surely would have passed right out at that point. He glanced back at Trey, who was wide-eyed and pale.

They both had stopped moving and breathing, waiting for something else to happen. For some half-eaten person to stagger out of the door. Or some deadly, hulking beast to appear, munching on a body torn to pieces.

The theater was silent and still. Too silent and too still.

Michael glanced back at Christine and Heather, who both stood ready for whatever may come. He then looked at Trey, who gave a reassuring nod that told Michael he was ready for whatever may come. Michael turned back toward the door and took a deep breath.

Then, he pushed open the door.

Crimson Alessa: Glad you liked the focus on Claudia. I hope that it gave some more insight to her characters and showed that she was more of a misguided soul than a bad person.

Duelist-17: I appreciate the compliments and hope that you get the chance to read future chapters of the story. If you have any suggestions at all, just let me know

Azarath111: The characters will meet up eventually, but not before they have a few trials on their own

Cat: Your question should be answered in the next chapter. Whatever she gave birth to will surely spell disaster for everyone

Kaworu85: Yeah, one of those kinds of chapters is always needed. The protagonists will be faced with some challenges before finding out just what came out of Claudia. And yes, Cybil and Douglas will bond as friends, if and when she starts to trust him. I have a feeling that the trust level will be upped in the next chapter. Claudia is out of the picture for the time being. At this point, I'm not sure whether more secondary characters will show up, even though in Silent Hill: Harry Mason, Christy (named Tina in my story) shows up. She is another character in Silent Hill 3 that is briefly mentioned in one of the notes Heather finds. She may be showing up in this story as well. And, I took your suggestion seriously...as you see, Cybil and Douglas have found a mysterious child. In addition to Tina, Harry may be showing up in this story as well. Let me know what you think of the new chapter.

SlapDash: Glad you like what you've read so far. The Butcher and the fanatic aren't in league with each other, but they do both have the same mission: to harass and possibly kill our heroes.

Rodarian: I agree with Heather Locklear as well. And I agree with your assessment of Claudia's character. She was just misunderstood and misguided. It really is a tragedy.

Shortey: Finals went great; I'm graduated now; and on my last official summer break. This new god will have everyone on his hit list, so no one will be safe. Keep reading to find out more.


	16. Brush with Death

I.

The metallic odor of blood and something else unsavory lingered about the room like the fog outside the movie theater. The single light in the storeroom leisurely oscillated back and forth causing the shadows in the room to move about, revealing then hiding aspects of the room at their own will.

The room was a storeroom, used to keep extra supplies so they were readily available for the concession stands. Boxes of buttery popcorn, various snacks, and vats of soda populated the metal shelves. The aisles were narrow and constricting allowing only one person to traipse down their length. Besides that, the floor to ceiling shelves created a maze in the room.

Michael entered cautiously, with Trey right behind him. Heather and Christine waited a distance away from the door in case something happened.

"I don't like this," Trey whispered as they studied the splatter of blood on the inside of the door.

The door looked as though it had a target painted on it and heads were used instead of darts to pass the time. Blood dribbled down the length of the door, speckled with unknown other matter, more than likely some kind of human gore.

The odor hit Michael much harder as they investigated the mess, causing him to take a step back. "I don't like this either," he turned and peered into the storeroom. "I'm wondering where the body is."

"I'm wondering what did this. I'd rather not meet it in here," Trey said.

Michael's eyes fell to the floor, observing the trail of blood leading from the door deeper into the storeroom. "It looks like it dragged the body into the back."

"So, we're going out the front, right?"

Michael ignored Trey as he stepped cautiously over the blood then followed the trail. Trey sighed, but followed closely.

The search came to an abrupt end when the blood disappeared under a shelf.

"It just disappears," Trey mentioned.

Michael stuck his gun in his belt right at the small of his back. He grabbed a side of the shelf and began to pull. Trey found an empty space next to a box of chocolate candies then joined Michael.

It only took a few well timed pulls to make enough space for them to slip behind it.

"Find anything?" Heather and Christine approached from behind.

"I thought you guys were waiting outside," Trey said, grabbing the wood plank from the shelf.

"We didn't hear you screaming, so we figured there wasn't anything dangerous back here," Christine replied.

Michael shined his flashlight into the newly found space but had difficulty seeing. "It looks like some kind of room back there. I don't think there's anything dangerous back there."

Heather ran her fingers though her unstructured blond hair, pushing a few strands out of her face. "Let's just be careful."

Michael led the way, squeezing through the narrow space. The four teens ended up in a smaller room different from the rest of the theater.

A fluorescent white light flickered unsystematically, bathing the room in an unfriendly luminance. The bare white walls and tiled floor were riddled with cracks and crumbled patches. The thing that stood out to them the most was the rusty projector atop the small, wooden table directly in the middle of the room.

"Looks like some kind of private screening room," Michael said.

"For what, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" Christine crinkled her nose as the smell of blood continued to invade her nostrils.

Michael approached the projector carefully, as if the projector would suddenly come to life and lash out at them. As preposterous as it sounded, Michael figured anything could happen, so it was best to stay on his toes.

Without thinking, Michael touched a button and the projector creaked to life. The turning gears on the projector made creaking and grinding sounds as it wound the film through.

Before anyone could protest about the noise, a scene began to appear on the screen. A white-haired, pale woman appeared, the camera showing her from the waist up. She spoke into the camera, appearing to address the audience. Though her lips moved and her hands made soft gestures, no sound came out.

"That's Claudia," Heather realized.

Michael frowned as the film started to skip and fade in and out of focus. As he watched, the scene changed from the woman to a scene in the streets. A man and a woman walked cautiously down the street. Before he could analyze it more, it changed to a creature, crawling on all fours, its appendages bent at odd angles as it plodded across the floor. Another scene—a blood splattered room, dripping with gore and other fluids that he dared not think about. The scenes still blurred in and out of focus, and the film still skipped and moved, so details were hard to make out. Sometimes, the scene itself was tricky to perceive.

Then another scene—a yellow eyed, masked surgeon reached toward the screen. Switch. It looked like four people walking along a darkened path. Could that have been them? But that wasn't right. Michael didn't remember anything like that up to this point. Scene change—a woman with a gun firing away from the screen at something. Then a child appeared—a little girl from what Michael could see. Then a teddy bear flashed on the screen.

Michael was ready to turn the projector off when a set of eyes appeared on the screen. Deep red, burning eyes now stared at them, peeling off their layers one by one. No, the eyes weren't staring at them. It was on the film, the eyes were staring at the camera. But this scene continued to play out. The camera zoomed in on the eyes until the two red ovals took up the middle of the left and right side of the screen. No other features could be seen, it was all black.

"Turn it off," Christine's voice trembled.

Michael realized that it wasn't just him that felt strange about the eyes staring at them. They studied the teens, undressed them down to their souls. It somehow saw their lives—their sins, hidden flaws, suppressed desires—and fed off what it could. Michael wanted to tear away from the evil eyes. Evil, that was the only way to describe the crimson ovals of judgment staring at them. Blinking obviously wasn't important, only studying them, intruders in its domain.

Michael didn't know why he felt all those things, but he did and he didn't like it. A sense of peril suddenly began to form a knot in his stomach. The longer he returned the gaze of the eyes, the heavier and larger it grew.

"YOU!" a voice bellowed then everything went dark.

II.

"I don't like this one bit, lady," Douglas half-whispered in Cybil's direction.

It was only a few minutes ago that they found a strange girl standing outside of the funhouse. Cybil tried to talk to the girl, yet all the girl managed to talk about was a teddy bear. The girl then pointed in the direction of the funhouse. Cybil decided that the girl was in shock, but couldn't bring herself to simply leave the girl without helping her. Not in this place.

Though every instinct told her something was wrong with the whole setup, Cybil decided to enter the funhouse to find the lost teddy bear. Douglas proposed that they leave the girl outside and though Cybil didn't agree at first, the unsettling feeling inside of the funhouse told her Douglas had made a wise suggestion.

Now, they found themselves in an upside down room. Rather one of those rooms that was built to give its patrons the feeling that they were walking on the ceiling. It was supposed to provide a sense of disorientation, but the room failed at the attempt.

Cybil stepped over the blades of a ceiling fan as she kept he gun pointed toward a door which probably led to the next room. She chanced a glance toward Douglas who positioned himself in the same manner.

"I don't like it either, but I don't think we have a choice," Cybil replied as she drew closer to the door.

Douglas made a sound between a snort and a disgruntled groan, "So now, we're stuck finding a lost girl's teddy bear in a place like this."

"You have a better idea?"

Douglas decided not to fall into Cybil's trap. He simply kept his attention on the room and the door. His muscles were tense, ready to react instantly against any perceived threat, and his senses were at their peak now. If anything happened now, Douglas felt for once in his life prepared to handle it.

III.

Michael couldn't figure out where the screams were coming from. The screams were like a symphony of fear as they continued to ring out. Then he realized where one of the screams came from. His own voice added to the cacophony.

He forced his mouth closed and fumbled for his flashlight. Something brushed against his cheek. There was something else in the room, something else lurking in the darkness slithering through the air. It was taunting them, teasing them, toying with them. It brushed past Michael's back again. Michael tried to bat it away, but he almost lost his balance. Falling to the ground would mean certain death and for some reason, Michael believed this undoubtedly. He stumbled, but regained his balance.

The flashlight danced around in the bag, Michael's fingers only gently caressing the smooth handle as it jiggled out of reach. Michael clenched his teeth together as something—no more than one something—brushed against his knee and arm. He realized that he was trembling and shaking the bag.

Michael steadied himself and finally got a hold of the flashlight. A quick twist produced a welcome beam of light. Michael flashed at around himself, hoping the light was a weapon against the dark creatures that swirled around them. Either they evaded the light or there was nothing there, but either way, Michael caught not even a glimpse of a slithery wraith creeping about through the air.

The beam of light then turned on Heather then Trey then Christine. All three were just as disheveled, confused, and scared as he was. He hadn't noticed, before, but the screaming had died down as well.

"Is everyone okay?" the quiver in his voice betraying his own panic.

Quick nods and tight-lipped expressions were his reply. At this point, that was good enough for him.

Michael turned the flashlight to the screen. The film had run out and now flailed helplessly as it slapped against some part of the projector. The rhythmic slapping, though a normal sound, seeming menacing like everything else in the town. A black square now filled the screen.

Michael peered at the square with interest. The screen was white, so if the film had run out, then there should only be a blank screen. But here was a black square, darker than the rest of the room. Michael stepped toward it and felt a cold draft from it.

"Guys, I think this is a hole," he whispered. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that if he raised his voice, something would hear.

His shaky hand reached for the hole and felt its cool, jagged edges then its cold, metallic passage.

"I think it's a vent," Trey said as he stood on the other side, feeling the newly-discovered hole.

Christine rubbed her arms as if the cold was already getting to her. "To where?" she asked.

Heather opened her mouth to answer when a loud scraping reverberated through the entire theater. The loud metal against tile grinded relentlessly, shattering the silence that once before filled the theater.

That sound—Michael knew he had heard it before. It was when they were in the church. Michael's eyes went wide with realization, "It's him. The Butcher. We have to get out of here." His voice was reduced to a hushed but hurried whisper. And somehow, even that seemed too loud.

Christine's voice matched Michael's, "Are we just supposed to crawl into that dark vent? We don't know what's in there. We could be walking into something more dangerous."

"If you want to stay here and play with the guy with the huge blade, be my guest. I've barely gotten away from him twice. I don't want to go for round three."

Michael put the flashlight in his mouth, knowing that if someone didn't make a move to climb into the vent, they would still be debating when Mr. I-want-to-slice-every-appendage-off-your-body-and-perform-unspeakable-acts-on-your-carcass crashed through the shelf. Whatever was on the other side of the vent could be worse, but they may have a better chance of surviving that than a face-to-face battle.

The vent was smaller than it first appeared, though Michael was able to low crawl on his stomach with room to spare. Heather wordlessly ushered Christine over and basically shoved her into the vent.

"Get in there," Heather commanded.

Trey frowned. "You should go."

"We're in a life or death situation. There isn't any time for chivalry. Besides, I have a gun and you have a piece of wood," Heather pointed out.

Trey looked at the wood then at Heather's gun. Then, he did something unexpected. He snatched the gun out of Heather's hand.

"Now, I've got the gun, so go."

"You ass," Heather cursed. If they hadn't been in such a dire situation, she probably would have slapped him. And that would have been lenient. She knew there was no time to argue. Maybe when they got to the other side, she would cuss him out. That's if they were still alive.

As Heather shimmied down the cold vent shaft, he heard a crashing sound and gunfire.

_"No,"_ Heather immediately thought. The Butcher—Michael's name for him—had found them and Trey was still trapped with the creature. Was there enough room for him to follow behind?

Heather tried to turn around, but she couldn't angel herself enough to catch a glimpse of the room they had just left. "Trey's still in there!" Heather's voice echoed down the shaft.

"Shit!" Michael shouted. He clenched his eyes closed as he realized there was nothing he could do. The shaft was too small to turn around in, both Christine and Heather were behind him, he heard gunfire, so that meant Trey somehow got the gun, which also meant that even if Heather could somehow backtrack, she had no weapon to help Trey with.

He couldn't stop now. If they could make room for Trey, maybe he could slip past and jump into the passage with them. That was the only chance he had now.

Michael moved as fast as he possibly could, his body slamming against the sides as he pushed and rocked his way forward. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his back, despite the now frigid vent shaft.

Behind him, he heard Christine grunting and pushing just as hard as he was, probably thinking the same thing: the only way they could possibly save Trey was to get as far into the shaft as possible. And behind Christine, Heather trailed behind. She had probably stopped to try to turn back, but her efforts probably failed. It surely only took her a few more moments to realize that Trey could still make it is she made room for him. So she reluctantly progressed after calling Trey's name several times.

There were a few more gunshots then nothing else. Michael couldn't think about anything happening to Trey, but the image of Stacy's hacked up body strewn about in the bathroom stall returned. He instantly remembered the blood. There was so much blood, and the smell—sour metal, putrid urine, and something else rancid—rushing at him. But instead of Stacy's crimson covered face, it was Trey.

Michael fell and hit a hard, cold floor. He took only a moment to peer around his new environment, to assess whether they had leaped from the pan into a scorching inferno. Judging from the still room and large door on the opposite wall, they were relatively safe.

He scrambled to his feet and reached back in. His hands grasped Christine's and he pulled her out quickly, half-setting, half-dropping her on the floor. Heather took only a second or two to reach his hands, but then she too was pulled out of the vent shaft.

Then Michael peered back into the shaft. A cold airstream swept past his face and stung his eyes, yet he kept his flashlight pointed down the shaft and ears perked up, listening for a hint of Trey.

"No, he can't be," Christine moaned. She sounded as if she was on the verge of a breakdown, as if Trey's death would be the last straw. But Michael and Heather felt the same way. Neither one of them knew how they would take it if indeed Trey had been bested by the butcher.

"Trey!" Michael shouted. His only reply was his own voice echoing Trey's name a few times before leaving a void of silence behind.

Michael felt weak. His knees wobbled slightly and he felt as if his body would simply give up on life. There was no way out and only his stubborn mind wouldn't let him believe it, but his body knew better and was already shutting down, not ready to face any more horrors Silent Hill had to offer.

Michael managed to turn and gaze at Heather and Christine. Though crying, Christine didn't sob uncontrollably or even sniffle, yet tears streamed from her eyes and her hands were clenched by her sides. Heather stared past Michael with an expression of disbelief, her face void of any expression at all. It was like she had all the life taken from her and was simply left in her present pose as a warning to anyone else that might care about someone else in Silent Hill.

The flashlight suddenly became too heavy, like trying to support a three-hundred pound weight in one hand.

Michael turned back to the vent and was met with a face right next to his.

Notes

Nianko: Thanks for the review. I appreciate the comment about the cliffhanger (and then I go and put another one in this chapter). I will definitely work on ending a chapter in the middle of something big happening. I hope I can continue to write as well as you say I do

Shortey: Thanks for noticing the graduation note I left. It was a tough time, but I made it through. I'm just taking a break now before I start work either next week or the week afterward. As for the story, glad you liked the last chapter. Yeah, the mysterious girl is fishy, and I have a feeling Cybil and Douglas are going to be in a bit of trouble as they explore the funhouse. Hope you enjoy the new chapter

Crazyb1tch85 (Kaworu85): Nice name yet again. Yes, I did go off your suggestion for the kid—see some people take reviews seriously. Glad you're rooting for Cybil and Douglas—hopefully, you'll see what happens to them in the next chapter

wiezerdgamir: Hey, no matter when you read the story and leave a review, I appreciate it. Yes, the mysterious little girl is no good (is any child in the middle of a horror situation ever good?). Enjoy the update!

Skittlefratz: Thanks for the review. I'm glad that the story isn't just dragging along. It was actually one of the concerns I had before starting to write this (I have one story that has 70 chapters). Hope you get the chance to check out this new chapter

duelist-17: Glad you liked the chapter. I did like the funhouse in SH3 (I reactively shot at the hanging corpse when it dropped from the ceiling—it scared the crap out of me). It's been a while, so I'll check to see if your Silent Hill story is up. Good luck with it and if you need anything, just let me know


	17. The House in Silent Hill

I.

Michael stopped all motion completely—breathing, blinking, and thinking. His mind was a complete blank as he stared into a dirty visage that only partly resembled Trey Harrison, now only inches away from his own face. It could have been fear that kept him from moving, or maybe it was a natural reaction to assess the next course of action. Regardless of the various possible explanations, Michael stood frozen in place as the face blankly stared back at him.

Michael knew exactly what happened. The Butcher—that evil bastard—he had somehow overpowered Trey and then his gruesome blade sank into Trey's neck and completely severed his head from his body. And just to taunt them, the Butcher had thrown the head down the shaft just so they could see what was in store for them. The Butcher wanted them to scream, he wanted to taste their fear, their panic, and their anguish. It's what fed his relentless pursuit and now they were next.

Michael shoved the gruesome thoughts out of his head, trying to concentrate only on Trey, who had given his life to save someone else. But they were all supposed to make it out of this alive. No one else was supposed to die. First his roommate, then Stacy, now Trey, Michael felt like he was distinctly responsible for these people's deaths. He felt a massive knot form in his stomach and nausea swept over him.

Then the face moved. Its expression changed from a statuesque grimace to a forced smile. "Are you going to help me out of here or what, Mike?"

"T—Trey?" Michael stammered, his motor functions finally responding. "You're—"

"Stuck. This thing is a pain in the ass to shimmy through," the smile was less forced now as Michael grabbed Trey and pulled him out in the same manner as he had done for Christine and Heather.

Christine rushed over and threw her arms around Trey. She sobbed and blubbered several words, but no one quite caught what she was saying.

"Yeah, whatever you said," Trey winced as Christine hugged him tighter. She felt his body suddenly stiffen and she pulled back. A ragged tear in his shirt, soaked with fresh blood, now existed between his left shoulder and tricep. A closer inspection revealed a few more cuts and scrapes, but nothing else too serious. At least nothing she could see.

"Trey, your arm," Christine motioned for Michael to hand her the first aid kit. Once she had the kit open, she cleaned up the wound as best she could and applied a clean dressing. The gash wasn't as deep as Christine initially thought, but it was still serious enough the he would have to get medical attention, if they ever made it to a normal hospital. Trey winced once or twice, but he stayed quiet during the entire procedure.

Once he was wrapped up, Heather approached him and Christine. "You're stupid!" she blurted out, unmindful that someone—or something—could be alerted to their presence. "What the hell were you trying to do back there?"

"I thought I was saving your life," Trey met Heather's gaze but spoke calmly.

"Don't do me any favors! You could've gotten killed—none of this is a game or some kind of movie. People die here and you can die too!" Heather kept her face stony, her hand motions accentuating her points heatedly.

Trey lowered his eyes. "Look I was only trying to—"

"Don't give me that. I've seen enough people die and if you had died—" she trailed off, her expression softening.

Michael walked forward and placed a hand on Heather's shoulder. "We're in this together. We're not going anywhere. I said it before and I'll say it again," he now shifted his gaze toward each person, "we're all going to make it out of here. Alive and together."

He turned from Heather and offered a hand to Trey. Michael pulled Trey to his feet and then Christine. He then focused on Heather.

"Are you okay?" he quietly asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Heather simply nodded. He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and turned back to Trey. "So, you fought against the Butcher and survived."

Trey nodded as he approached Heather. He held the gun out to her. "I think this is yours."

She studied him for a moment. His disheveled brown hair, goofy grin, amicable attitude—how did he get pulled into this? Did any of them deserve to be in Silent Hill? She couldn't imagine the three teens that she now relied on, not only as fellow sufferers in Silent Hill but almost as friends, being like some of the fanatical strangers that wandered the streets. They were normal kids who didn't know what they were involved in. But they were survivors. Despite their own fears, misgivings, and flaws, they stood together to help Heather.

Heather reached past the gun and embraced Trey, missing his bandaged wound by only a few inches. No words were spoken because none were needed. Trey returned the embrace then pulled back. Heather took the gun and checked the bullets.

"I took Heather's gun and told her to go. I couldn't leave her there," Trey began to explain. "The Butcher broke through before I could get into the vent. I tried to shoot at him, but it was like it had no effect on him. I circled back out into the storeroom, but not before he gave me something to remember him by," Trey motioned to his wound. "He followed me out there, but I managed to catch him off guard and push one of those shelves on him. I ran back and dove into the vent praying that he couldn't grab my leg and pull me back in."

"Well, that passage is too small for him to go through, so we're safe for the moment," Michael presumed. Michael then turned his attention to the door he noticed earlier. "Maybe we can get out through there."

Michael's hope disintegrated along with everyone else's as they neared the door. The solid door had no visible door knob. He and Christine pushed against it, but it stood strong against them. It had to be at least a half of foot of iron.

"How are we supposed to get through here?" Christine asked.

"When the sun hovers over the stars, earth, air, and water will align to reveal the path of the maker," Heather read aloud. While Michael and Christine were dealing with the door, she spied the scribble on the wall.

"A riddle?" Michael asked.

Heather moved from the inscription to the door, studying it closely. She ran her fingers along the door and found five round indentations: one on top, one in the middle, and three on the bottom. The riddle obviously alluded to the door and its five empty indentations, but where were they supposed to find the keys?

It took only a moment for Heather to recall something from earlier. "Michael," she turned to him, "do you still have the coin from the church?"

"The coin from the church?" Michael repeated.

"The cursed coin. The one with the stars and strange writing on it," Trey clarified, remembering Christine pointing it out then studying it for himself. Though he disagreed, Heather insisted on taking it along. If it indeed was one of the missing pieces to this puzzle, he vowed not to question Heather's need to take everything along ever again.

Michael reached in his pocket and produced the silver coin. He remembered it now as he turned it over to Heather. She returned to the door and pushed it into the middle hole. It clicked into place, held fast by some unseen force.

"So now, all we have to do is find the other four coins and the door should open?" Christine clarified.

Heather nodded. She suddenly spied a set of stairs, hidden in a dark corner of the four-sided room they were now in. Besides the vent and the locked door, the ascending stairs were the only way in and out of the room.

"I think the rest of the keys are up there," she motioned to the stairs.

Though filled with trepidation and doubt, Michael, Heather, Christine, and Trey slowly climbed the rickety stairs to the house above.

II.

The dark oak door squealed in protest as Cybil gradually pushed it open. She warily stepped into the next room of the funhouse, not expecting to only moments later be knocked off her feet by a strange monster.

Cybil flipped onto her back to at least see her attacker before she fired off shots. The writhing creature took a menacing step toward her, its short legs shaking under the shifting posture of its upper body. If Cybil could have described the torso, it would have been a person, trapped inside of a thick layer of skin struggling to get out. However, the gaping, jagged mouth opened to reveal a dark interior, void of any trapped victim.

She took aim and fired three shots, which pushed the monster back against the wall. A feeling of complacency settled in. The slow creature wouldn't get within several feet of her without being fatally dealt with. But when it recovered quickly and leaped in the air toward her, Cybil realized she had underestimated the small creature, and now, she was going to pay for it with her life.

Three more shots rang out, blasting the creature out of its trajectory. It sailed lifelessly away from Cybil and landed several feet away with a sickening plop. Dark blood pooled around the creature as it went into a helpless spasm.

Douglas stepped from the doorway, passed Cybil, and stomped his heel into the creature's upper body. There was a sickening crunch then it was still.

"You okay?" Douglas extended a hand toward Cybil

She gratefully took it and in the next moment was on her feet. "Thanks," she sheepishly offered. "I didn't see it coming."

"Don't worry about it. It happens."

Cybil let her eyes fall to the floor. She realized in that instant that she had misjudged the older man that now stood before her. He was a far cry from some of the characters floating around Silent Hill. He may very well be one of the good guys.

She took a moment to survey the room they were in. Besides the fallen creature now surrounded by a shallow, yet wide pool of thick blood, the room itself was normal, considering that it was a room in a funhouse in Silent Hill. How normal could it really be?

Regardless, it resembled an office with a large desk in the middle of the room, flanked by another desk with a computer on top. Couches, chairs, and a coffee table sat in front of the desk, arranged as if the person sitting behind the desk had frequent meetings with either his or her co-workers or subordinates. Magazines were strewn about on the table, and shelves which should have housed books were strangely empty. Two doors led out of the room, one to the immediate right and one on the far wall behind the desk.

"Why is there an office in the middle of the funhouse?" Douglas spoke softly as he searched the room.

Cybil shrugged. "Not much of anything makes sense here. The one thing I do know is that it may be here for a reason. I'll check the desk."

While Cybil rumbled through the drawers, Douglas tried the door to their immediate right. The lock was broken and the door didn't budge.

He turned to say something when he heard a high-pitched giggle. Douglas spun toward the door they entered from and he heard a bolt lock into place. He turned to Cybil with a puzzled look. She stood frozen in place, obviously caught off guard by the sudden disruption. Douglas stepped forward and tried to open the door. Locked.

He pounded on the door, "Hey, little girl! Open this door!" His raspy, yet mellow voice didn't seem to quite portray the urgency that his face displayed. Cybil ran up behind him and started banging on the door as well.

"Honey, open the door. We're not going to hurt you. We're trying to find your bear."

Another giggle was the only reply then silence.

After a few more cries, they stopped beating on the door. Cybil sighed and rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, taking off some of the sweat. "Why did she lock us in here? I should've never trusted that girl. I thought there was something strange about her."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. You were doing the right thing. It's just that the right thing in this hell hole may not be the thing that will keep us alive. Let's just find a way out of here."

Cybil crossed back to the desk, but frowned as she realized the top drawer was stuck. It opened only a fraction and would not budge any farther. She pulled her Leatherman from its holder and used her leverage to pry open the drawer. Something small slid and hit the side with a clang.

She reached in a pulled out a strange coin. Despite the rusty, dirty drawer, the coin shone as if recently polished. On the front was a picture of lines. At a second glance, she realized they weren't random lines but a representation of a gust of air. Strange words written in some language long-forgotten encircled the air.

"What's that doing in there?" Douglas asked.

Cybil flipped it over, frowning. "I don't know. It's best if we keep it though, there's no telling whether we'll need it or not."

A deep rumble cut off Cybil's sentence then a deafening, continuous roar drowned out her next words. The room rocked unsteadily as cracks snaked along the walls, floor, and ceiling. "What the hell's going on!" Cybil screamed. She stumbled into the wall and winced as pain shot through her shoulder. She looked in time to see Douglas thrown to the ground. Cybil took an unsteady step toward him, but instead of flat, carpeted floor, she felt and uneven, jagged edge. The floor was breaking apart.

Cybil shouted to Douglas, but he was struggling to get onto his feet. The rumbling drowned out her voice as the shaking intensified. She took one more step then belted forward. Douglas turned to her with panic in his eyes as he suffered the same fate.

They were falling into a pit of darkness, which happily swallowed their screams.

III.

"A house?" Trey asked as they glanced around a kitchen.

"That's what it looks like," Michael replied. "If it is a house then the coins are probably somewhere around here."

"And not in one place," Heather added.

Christine frowned as she noticed the left over pots and pans strewn about. Most were filled with something insalubrious and filled the kitchen with a repelling stench. The counters had remnants of whatever the pots held smeared across their surface. Even the cabinets looked unsanitary with something dripping, hidden behind their closed doors.

"This is gross," she complained.

Though they didn't voice it, everyone else agreed.

"Let's just find these coins so we can get through that door," Michael said. Trey walked past him and tried to open the back door, but it seemed the lock was broken and the door wouldn't budge. The single, small window in the kitchen wouldn't open, despite Christine's best effort. Despite already knowing that it wouldn't open, Heather tried the front door and several other windows, while Michael tried to open another door that presumably led outside. They too were unsuccessful in finding a way out.

Frustrated, Trey took the poker from the frigid fireplace and tried to break a window. The effort was rewarded with a dull thud and a stinging pain that shot through his arm. The window held fast as if it was reinforced by steel.

"We can't get out of here," Trey said.

"We're being led somewhere. This place won't let us go any other way but where it wants us to go. And right now, it wants us to go through that door," Heather wearily explained, and motioned to the basement. "We should split up to—"

"Split up?" Michael's voice was higher than normal, sounding as if Heather had voiced something abhorrent and repulsive. From everyone's surprised expression, he realized he came off a little more emotional than he meant. "Look, I just don't know if splitting up is the best thing we can do right now. Don't any of you pay attention to horror movies?"

"Yeah, we're right in the middle of one," Trey replied, nodding in agreement.

"Splitting up is never a good idea," Michael reiterated.

Heather looked at him in stark disbelief. "You're not going to split up because of some horror movie you've seen? It'll take us all night to find these coins. The sooner we find those coins and get through that door, the sooner I can find Douglas, and the sooner we can figure out a way to get out of this hell." Heather noticed Michael's steadfast, hard expression, unfazed by her logic. "Look, we're stuck in this house—if we can't get out, those things out there can't get in. We'll find meet back here in ten minutes, and if we haven't found anything, we'll figure out another plan."

"Something could be locked in here with us," Christine ominously countered, looking at the ceiling. It was almost as if she saw something that the rest of them couldn't see, something dangerous lurking stealthily in the upstairs rooms, waiting for the sweet, tender teens to wander right into its clutches. They would be quite the delightful treat.

"She does have a point. There isn't a place that we've been that doesn't have something messed up lurking around the corner," Trey agreed.

"Ten minutes. We have guns," Heather impatiently countered. She started upstairs and paused at the bottom. Her expression basically said, _Hurry up, you asses, so we can get the hell out of here._

Michael sighed loudly and against his better judgment, which said that they should stick together and investigate the house despite the added time it would take, he decided that Heather did have a valid point. "At least take Christine with you. We'll split into two groups. We'll take the first floor and you two can take the second floor." He looked at his watch then realized it wasn't working. "We don't have working watches so just find the coins and get back down here as quick as possible."

Heather checked her gun and headed up the stairs with Christine on her heels.

"Dude, this is not a good idea," Trey warned.

"You don't have to tell me that. Come on," Michael replied as he started down the darkened first floor hallway.

IV.

The bathroom was the first open door that they found, but Michael personally wished it had been closed and had a broken lock like so many of the other doors in this town. He felt like every bathroom was some kind of homage to the King of Disgusting Bathrooms. And if that was the case, this one must have set the benchmark for all the others.

Besides what Michael saw as standard in terms of bathrooms in Silent Hill—heavy mildew stains, dirt and grime, rust on anything metal, putrid smell, unidentifiable stains on the floor and walls, faint lighting, and unexplainable blood splattered in every direction—this bathroom had a particularly nasty toilet, which sat open on the far left side of the bathroom.

Trey leaned toward the toilet to look, as if he was curious but scared to get any closer than five feet. The overwhelming stench caused Trey to reflexively gag. He clamped his hand over his nose and mouth, hoping it would somehow block the nauseating aroma from creeping into his nostrils. Trey didn't even want to think about it floating into his mouth.

He stepped back then grinned at Michael. "Hey, if there was something in there, like one of the coins, would you reach in and get it?"

"You must be out of your damn mind," Michael replied without missing a beat. "That Butcher must have hit you in the head too."

"Hey, you never know," Trey grinned, obviously amused with his analysis of a desperate situation. He stepped to the toilet and kicked the lid closed.

As Michael searched the cabinet under the sink, Trey pulled back the shower curtain. He was surprised to find a rather large box sitting in the middle of the tub, as if placed there by the previous residents. Why they would put a big box in the tub was way beyond Trey though.

He was going to leave it alone until he noticed a small tag on it. Upon closer inspection, Trey stood back, puzzled.

"Mike, check this out. There's a box in the tub."

Michael stepped up next to Trey to peer into the tub. "So what? Leave it there."

"But look at the tag."

Michael sighed, wondering why Trey was acting so strangely. "Why am I reading this tag?" Michael asked then stopped abruptly as he read it aloud. "For Trey."

They gave each other a perplexed expression. Trey was the first to move as he reached over and opened the box. It opened without much work at all, and when they saw what was inside, they were even more confused.

"An automatic crossbow?" Michael muttered.

Trey handled the weapon carefully, studying every aspect of the new weapon. "I've only used something like this a few times back when I visited my grandpa in Georgia."

"What were you doing? Squirrel hunting?"

"Those rascally devils sure can run, but a crossbow will stop them right—"

Michael sighed and slapped his forehead. "Nevermind, just figure the thing out. I wonder who left it and how they knew you were going to find it."

"I'm through trying to figure this place out," Trey replied as he snatched an instruction sheet from the bottom of the box. He hurriedly read through it then tossed the paper back into the box.

Trey got used to the weight quickly then practiced aiming a few times. He was glad that he still remembered some of the major details of how to use a crossbow. This one was probably a little different since it was an automatic, which sounded kind of strange talking about a crossbow. But if someone wanted to give him a crossbow that fired 180 arrows a minute with a single trigger pull and without having to reload the thing, then he wouldn't complain, even if it did sound impossible.

"This is definitely better than a wooden plank," Trey whipped around and pointed the weapon toward Michael.

"Don't point that thing at me. I don't want to be your first victim," Michael flatly stated. He happened to glance at the lights above the mirror then paused for a moment. Out of all the bathrooms he had been in, this was the first with the vanity lights over the mirror. There had to be something significant about that.

Michael looked at the middle bulb and noticed it was darker than the rest. He looked closer. It wasn't darker. There something was inside of the bulb. Michael grabbed a soiled washcloth from the counter and ran some water into it. He then wrapped the towel around the bulb and rotated it a few times.

"What are you doing?"

"There's something inside of this bulb. We don't have time to wait for the lights to cool down after I turn them off, so I'm simply unscrewing it with this wet towel. I'm going to crush the bulb in the towel too."

Trey watched as Michael did everything he said he would then he set the washcloth on the counter and carefully peeled it open. Among the broken shards of glass lay a silver coin with strange writing around the edge and the sun in the middle.

"That's what we're looking for," Trey said.

"We'll try to find the other one real quick. We still have about five minutes before we meet back with Heather and Christine," Michael slipped the coin into his backpack.

"See, nothing's going to happen. You were worried for nothing," Trey mentioned as they stepped back into the hallway. However, a muffled moan stopped both teens as if they had been frozen in place.

"Did you hear that?" Trey's whisper was more like a rushed breath.

"Shh—" Michael snapped as he tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

The muffled moan sounded again and this time Michael could tell it came from the last door on the left. Michael still thought it was his imagination, the stress of the current situation mixed with his over-active imagination. But when the moan turned into a stifled grunt for help, he knew that someone else was in the house with them.

Michael waited until Trey had positioned himself, angled toward the door from across the hallway. Trey would make sure that whatever decided to dart through that door would have a face (or upper torso for any headless creature) pin-cushioned with arrows.

They gave each other a confident nod as Michael slowly opened the door. He shined his flashlight in the dusky room, but he immediately didn't see anything that could have possibly been groaning for help.

He took a step into the room, ensuring he kept a clear shot open for Trey if anything—and he did mean anything—wanted to stumble out of the darkness. If it was another sane person trapped in Silent Hill, Michael figured they could apologize later.

The room was the size of three bedrooms put together, which completely threw Michael off. It didn't make sense for such a large room to be at the very back of the house. Someone must have had a flash of creative stupidity during the designing phase. The rest of the room extended off to the right of the door, disappearing into a fog of shadow.

Michael shone his flashlight through the room. From what he could see, the room was in complete disarray. Books from a floor to ceiling bookshelf were scattered about, the curtains only handing on their rod by a few threads, drawers hanging open or completely thrown out of the dresser, and other indistinguishable clutter on every horizontal surface in the room except one.

The bed. The simple sheet covering the bed undulated perversely, rising and falling and swaying from side to side. Then Michael made out the outline of a body then saw the hands tied to the metal grates at the head of the bed.

By this time, Trey was right on Michael's heels with the crossbow pointed directly at the bed. He nodded as Michael stepped closer to the bed. Another moan made Michael leap back and point his gun at the bed.

He stayed in that position for a full minute before taking another unsteady step toward the bed. Then another until he was right next to the bed.

With his right hand holding the aimed gun, Michael reached down with his left hand and pinched the sheet between his fingers while still holding the flashlight. The light bounced around the room, not quite lighting the bed. Then, he pulled the sheet back.

The flashlight revealed a woman writhing on the bed, her clothes covered in blood and her exposed flesh covered with abrasions. Even her unrecognizable face was bloodied and appeared raw. Despite her disposition, she continued to move her body in a disgustingly inviting manner. She still mumbled something through the gore that was stuffed in her mouth.

Michael spied a pencil lying on the nightstand. It was better to use that than his hand to move whatever it was that was in her mouth. He closed in with the pencil and flicked the meaty and fatty nugget out of her mouth.

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not," the woman's raspy voice continued to drone on.

"This is beyond weird," Trey whispered. "I don't think we should be here."

_Out of the frying pan and into the fires of hell,_ Michael bitterly thought. The rope was too knotted to simply untie, so Michael glanced around the room for something to cut it with. A knife, broken glass, metal shard. Anything would do at this point.

"Trey do you have—" Michael stopped talking abruptly. He turned back to the door then suddenly realized how far away they were from the door. They had crossed the entire length of the room to investigate the bed, and now, they were too far from the door. But when it began to close, Michael didn't think about that. He was glad for the space between them and the door, but that was the only way in and out of the room.

The door fully closed to reveal that someone else was in the room with them. Someone with a long blade. Michael quickly concluded that it wasn't the Butcher, but someone—no, something—much more sinister.

Notes:

Sorry for the long delay—I just got moved into my apartment and finally got hooked up to the internet. Hope you all like the new chapter!

The coin that Michael produced in the room was found in Chapter 8, as they investigated a strange bedroom in Father Tom's church

Bounding Jackalope: I appreciate the review and I'm glad you like the story.

Richard B. Sampson Jr.: Sorry we haven't talked in a while—but thanks for the review. Yes, it was about time the butcher came back, but it looks like the kids are faced with another sinister figure, and this time, it's not the Butcher!

Skittlefratz: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I've tried to improve my writing over the time I've been working on this story, so I'm glad that it is noticeable. Hopefully, you're happy that Trey made it through his situation, but it looks like they are stuck right in the middle of another, and this time, they may not be so lucky.

duelist-17: Glad you liked the screen scene. It was a little difficult to actually write, so I'm glad that it came off well on paper (well, on screen—oh, you get the idea). I've been offline for a while now, but I'll check out your story as soon as I can.

two-bite-brownies: This is the first horror story that I've written and I'm glad that you like it. Hopefully, you've checked out my other Silent Hill story. The two stories are related and they will be crossing each other quite soon.

Rodarian: LOL. I actually write with horror music in the background—it helps me focus...

As for the girl, we'll have to see who or what she actually is.

: More is written!

Shortey: Well, our favorite comic relief did make it out of his bind. Cybil and Douglas's journey through the funhouse isn't over yet!

Crazyb1tch85: I actually wasn't thinking of the Ring when I wrote it, but now that you mention it, it is kind of similar. I wanted to have some kind of forewarning for them and I originally planned to have it happen in a big theater, but I think the projector in the small room was more Silent Hill-esque. The one that yelled "you" will surface very soon. Cybil and Douglas will definitely have a bigger part as the story goes on—this chapter was just the beginning for them. I really don't know how man chapters I'll have. It's funny—this story really has a life of its own and you guys reviewing just gives me new ideas and keeps me motivated. I tried to cap it at three more chapters, but I have so many ideas running around that I think I'll have a few more than that. It has been a long way, but even for me, it feels like the beginning. But trust me, our heroes will be nearing the end of their journey soon. And just to let you know—the Butcher and Pyramid Head are two separate monsters—and the end of this chapter may just prove that...


	18. Dream's End

I.

Douglas Cartland had never been in this bad of shape, not in all his time as a policeman or as a cheap private investigator. His cases as a police officer were simple and straight-forward, mostly desk work with only a few field cases. And even those field cases were nothing like the crime dramas depicted on television or novels. No huge explosions, no kicking in the door on a gang of merciless thugs, no kidnappers holding a young girl hostage willing to shoot and blow up everything in sight. The most action he had seen was stopping a wayward teen from shoplifting some candy that probably wouldn't have been missed anyways. Even then, he let the kid off with a lecture and threat to tell his parents. Nothing more. Even as a private investigator, Douglas was usually hired for simple missing person cases. But none had been as strange as this.

Not only did he find the missing person, but found out that he was helping some cult locate their mother of god. If that wasn't strange enough, he found himself wrapped up in a bizarre melodrama. Everything Douglas thought he knew about life was scooped up, shaken, tossed, pressed, stretched, and mangled beyond recognition. Grotesque monsters, eerie settings, bizarre characters, and more had been suddenly shoved in his face and all of it revolved around the girl he had been hired to find, Heather Mason.

He was under the impression from Claudia Wolfe that Heather had been kidnapped, as if this town were her rightful place. But after he found Heather and figured some things out on his own, Douglas realized he was nothing but a pawn in a much larger, sinister plan. From what he gathered, Claudia sought Heather to make her some kind of "Mother of God", whatever that meant. From his standpoint, it didn't sound like wholesome, pure fun.

Regardless of the supernatural aspect of the situation, Claudia was responsible for Harry Mason's death. Even if he couldn't attest for all of the mystic cult business happening, he could prove her involvement in Harry's death and possibly a few other crimes. If everything ever returned to normal, he would make sure Claudia was brought to justice.

But for now, Douglas lay breathless on the ground, wondering if every bone in his body was broken.

It seemed like he had fallen for hours, tumbling head over heels through the darkness until coming to an abrupt stop. A cloud of dirt thickened the air he desperately tried to suck in. He coughed and rolled onto his side.

Douglas watched Cybil Bennett, a fellow cop who he had only met a while ago, stir gently then jolt into an upright sitting position. She had her gun pointed into the darkness, not sure what she was even pointing at, but prepared to fire nonetheless.

"Douglas?" she whispered but her voice echoed as if she had shouted.

He coughed again then asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know. The room just suddenly came apart. Then, we were here, wherever that is."

Douglas took a deep breath. He didn't feel a piercing pain, so at least he knew no ribs were broken. He pulled himself to a sitting position then gingerly stood and brushed off his coat. Douglas knew he was being much more nonchalant than he should be, given the circumstances, but he didn't care. If it was his time to go then so be it.

Cybil stood, though unsteadily. "Douglas, are you okay?"

He simply waved her comment away as he gasped for air. After a few more coughs, he regained some composure. "I'm okay," he finally replied.

He reached for two more painkillers and swallowed them dry then took a curious glance toward Cybil, who now stood next to him, probably thinking some of the same things he was. Yet, her expression was unreadable.

"So what now?" Douglas asked.

Cybil shook her head, "I really don't know. I'm not even sure where we are."

"Well, we're in a house for starters—" a familiar voice cut through the darkness. The figure stepped out of the shadows and smiled. "Looks like we're back on the same team."

Harry Mason gave his new partners a smile.

II.

Christine Mitchell should have been used to the quiet. It was a foreboding blanket that smothered everything in its stifling thickness. When there was a noise, it seemed like an earth-shattering racket that desperately needed her or Heather's immediate attention. The only constant was their shoes thumping along whatever surface suited the environment and right now, they trekked over a hardwood floor, complete with small moans against their weight.

She followed behind Heather Mason, a no-nonsense and slightly selfish girl that had saved her butt quite a few times throughout their adventure. Heather told her story earlier in the evening, but it wasn't until now that everything started to sink in.

Christine gathered that Heather was a victim, just like they were, of the ambitions of a crazy woman named Claudia. Somehow, she had achieved her goal and possibly birthed something inherently evil and deadly. After that, Christine met Heather, who was in a dazed state wandering the street. Only a while later, they encountered Michael McNeal and Trey Harrison. Since then, the four of them kept close with the intention of finding out exactly what happened and a way to return to the normal world. However, at this moment, they had split up. Heather and Christine opted (rather Heather insisted) to search the second floor and the guys took the first floor. Michael asked her to go with Heather so they could split into two groups, but Christine agreed with Michael. Splitting up was _always_ a bad idea.

Christine wondered if they had found the coins, which is the whole reason they split up in the first place. Hopefully, when they all reconvened, they would have all five coins and be able to move on from this creepy house before something really terrible occurred.

But so far nothing had happened. No creepy individuals holding someone's freshly plucked eyes, no strange priests willing to sacrifice them to some malevolent deity, no blade-wielding maniacs waiting around the corner, nothing. Christine found solace in the silence, but she couldn't decide whether that was good or bad at this point.

Most of the doors on the second floor were impossible to open. She believed that someone had strategically come along and mangled the doorknobs to prevent them from straying too far from whoever or whatever they were being led to.

Heather seemed much less surprised by their limited exploration area as she made her way from door to door. However, Christine's nerves tingled expectantly as they moved cautiously down the narrow hallway.

Secretly, Christine admired Heather for her fearlessness despite the horrendous circumstances they found themselves in. Maybe it was that Heather felt somehow responsible—but if what she said was true then Heather was responsible. Still, she could have given up and let whatever was developing happen, but she chose to fight. And that is what gave Christine the willingness to face danger—though she didn't do it as well as Heather.

Her thoughts then went to Cybil. Christine didn't know how long it had been since the accident, but surely Cybil should be worried about them by now. But then again, what if the whole world were in this condition? Christine quickly dismissed this hypothesis though. Judging from what Heather told them earlier, this madness or whatever it was only affected this town and certain areas outside of it, like the college where both Michael and Trey came from.

And now, they were in this house. Christine again reflected on the thick stillness and oppressing silence.

_Just be calm. We'll be fine._

Christine took a deep breath and silently repeated her mantra again. They had some near misses, but maybe the worst part was over. They would find the coins and be free of this warped version of hell, free to get back to their lives or at least pick up the pieces.

They rounded a corner and found themselves at a dead end. A window sat about two feet above the floor, flanked on either side by two doors.

Heather tried to peer out the window, but the dense fog kept her from seeing anything beyond her own faint reflection in the glass.

"We can't get into any of the rooms on this floor. What are we supposed to do?" Christine asked.

Heather opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a wrenching scream that tore through the hallway.

Christine sucked in her breath and held it, scared that whatever caused that scream was heading straight toward them. Heather immediately pointed her gun at the corner then stepped carefully around it into the adjoining hallway. Christine had her fully charged taser in hand, ready for use.

They expected the scream to disappear, but it continued on into a painful wail that rose and fell. They searched the hallway for the source of the scream, but all the doors were still closed.

"Heather, look!" Christine pointed toward smoke seeping from underneath a door. She and Heather dashed to the second to last door on the left and yanked on the knob. "I think it's locked!" she shouted over the continuous scream. More smoke and a strange repugnant odor escaped through the cracks on the sides, top, and bottom of the door.

"We've got to get in there," Heather quickly glanced around, hoping to find something of use to get into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a small glint of light. Turning her full attention to it, there was something shiny half sticking out from underneath a chest. Heather picked it up and found that it was actually a key, probably to this room.

She quickly pushed the key into the keyhole and turned. The door swung open easily and banged against the wall. Smoke bellowed out, bringing tears to the girls' eyes and burning their throats. Heather coughed but still moved into the room, covering her mouth. Christine was right behind her, the smoke affecting her just as bad.

They weren't prepared for what they saw as the smoke began to clear.

III.

Michael McNeal had seen enough this night to last him a lifetime. Still, this strange, horrific world always found a way to surprise and scare him. And now was one of those times.

He was taken aback by the writhing woman on the bed, but the appearance of this new creature, complete with a red pyramid for a head and of course armed with a menacing-looking blade, really caught him off guard. He simply stared for a few seconds, while his mind desperately tried to make sense of what was going on and more importantly, what he and Trey were going to do next.

"Stay back!" Trey screamed, hoping that the creature at least understood, but if not, maybe aiming the crossbow at it would get the message across. "Mike, what the hell is that?"

"Pyramid head?" Michael surmised. How the hell did he become the resident expert on the monstrosities that wandered around? The situation was too perilous at this time for Michael to reprimand Trey about stupid questions. His answer was more or less a flippant response, but as good as any for the creature that loomed before them.

He grabbed a knife from the nightstand and sawed at the rope that held the woman's wrists fast to the headboard. Michael didn't even want to wonder what such a thing was doing on a nightstand, let alone what it could have been used for.

"You may want to speed that up," Trey warned as Pyramid Head took a daunting step toward them.

"I'm trying!" Michael frantically sawed the knife back and forth across the rope. The woman continued to move, so it made it hard to get a good angle on the rope without putting the woman's wrists in jeopardy of being cut.

Trey swallowed hard then noticed another figure lying on the ground. "Mike, there's someone else back there."

Michael looked up and saw a dark-haired woman propped up in a sitting position against the wall. Her head lagged forward and only stirred slightly.

He turned back to the ropes and pressed even harder. The rope finally gave way and Michael grabbed one of the woman's arms and draped it around his shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He glanced at the nightstand again and saw a small blue book. There was really no reason for him to take it, but he grabbed it anyway.

_I've become a kleptomaniac. Mom and Dad are going to love this._

He glanced around the room and saw another door and a bathroom.

_Great, another bathroom._

But Michael pushed his hesitation away as Pyramid Head closed the gap between them.

"Move! Go!" Michael screamed. They half-ran, half-stumbled to the bathroom door and slammed the door behind them. Michael fell to one knee and let the woman's arm slip from around him. She appeared to be returning to some form of sanity as her light blue eyes focused on Michael and Trey, who kept his body pressed against the door, waiting for Pyramid Head to smash through.

"Do you hear it? He's calling me. He needs me back," the woman stared intently at Michael as her grip on his wrist tightened.

Michael shook his head. "No one's calling you. We're safe from whatever that thing was." He gently, but firmly removed her hand from his wrist.

Her light blue, nearly grey, eyes stretched wide. "He doesn't want me, does he?" She made a sound between a snort and dry laugh, "He never wanted me, he wanted _her_. But he couldn't have her, could he? He killed her. He didn't love her. He hated her and he hated me too."

Michael gave Trey a glance, but Trey was just as clueless as he was. Michael figured that thing, Pyramid Head (that was as good of a name as any to call it), must have tortured this woman. But monsters didn't torture people, did they?

"I don't—" Michael shook his head, but the woman cut him off.

"My time in this world is over. I thought he would take me away, but he hated me, used me, _left_ me," she shook her head as she began to stand, shaking out of Michael's grasp and ignoring his pleas for her to sit down.

"You two. I don't know who you are, but you should get out of here," she reached in her pocket and pulled out a coin similar to the one they had earlier. It had the same strange writing, but in the middle was a large wave, representing water.

"That's one of the coins," Trey said.

She walked toward Trey, and Michael assumed that she was heading back into the bedroom. "You can't go back out there!" He stood and grabbed the woman's arm. "You—" he began. The woman snatched her arm away and backhanded Michael. He flew back and hit the mirror, the glass cascaded around him as he tumbled to the ground.

Trey's head spun. They just helped this woman and now she was the one that they had to worry about harming them. He pointed his crossbow at her. "I don't know what your deal is, but another step and I shoot."

She gave him a half-smile and stepped forward. Trey didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger.

The woman looked at her chest and followed the end of the arrow to the middle where it disappeared into the center of her chest. She stared at it for a minute then looked up at Trey. Michael stood slowly, unsure of what would happen next, but he pulled out his gun slowly.

She looked back at Michael, her expression showing satisfaction at his recovery.

"You'll do what I couldn't. Escape. I know that I can't leave this place. I'm not human. Nothing but a figment of this world's imagination. I know what I am now, and that my time is finally over. I was weak. I wanted to be wanted. Now, it's over. Let me go to my fate."

Trey looked at Michael for some kind of decision and when Michael kept his gun raised, but softened his expression, Trey knew Michael was going to let her go. She saw the same thing because she turned and walked toward the door.

Trey kept his crossbow pointed at her, but moved to the side.

She gave Trey a glance over and gave Michael one last glance before opening the door and closing it back.

"What the hell? You let her go? She's going to be—"

"—set free," Michael finished. He put away his gun and pulled out the small blue book.

"What the hell is that?"

"I grabbed it from the nightstand," Michael explained. "When I fell, it opened up to this page." Michael held the book open and Trey read what he could.

_I wonder if he really cared about me, if he really loved me. But no, he loved Mary, not me. And that's why he left me, but then again, could I have left with him? Silent Hill created me, but I am alive and I want to live. But that torturer is still here—James' dark side and he's after me. He wants to kill me—I'm sure of it. Maybe I'll find a way to escape, but do I really have anywhere to go? Maybe one day, I'll figure it out. Maria._

"Was she Maria?" Trey asked, still not seeing why Michael let her go.

He nodded. "There was an article in the paper a few years ago about James Sunderland. He came forward and admitted to killing his wife, Mary. But she was sick and he felt that he was putting her out of her misery. The papers called him crazy because he described this nightmarish experience in Silent Hill, which led him to confess what he had done. I'm not sure what happened to him after that, but the story was sensationalized—it was all over the place. The people of Silent Hill were appalled to say the least that their town was somehow at the center of such a terrible story."

"So that woman—" Trey trailed off.

"I think that this place is a cross between a place of redemption for those that need it and a place of torture for others. I think we fall in the latter category."

"Do you think Heather and Christine are okay?" Trey asked.

"I hope—" Michael began, but the sound of a heavy thud and splintering wood shattered the conversation.

The bathroom door now had an addition—a large point covered in crimson jutted from the center of the door, leaving a jagged hole in the door. They heard a gurgling noise from the other room and a steady drip of something liquid hitting the floor.

Michael's stomach sunk as his mind immediately went to the woman—no, Maria. He should have stopped her. He should've made her stay in the bathroom. They could've escaped together. But this is what she wanted, wasn't it? Michael couldn't fathom someone wanting death, but on some level, he understood her decision and maybe that's why he let her go.

"Mike," Trey whispered.

Michael shook his head in disbelief as the door crept open.

The sight of Maria pinned to the door, a large blade taking the place of the small arrow that protruded from her chest only minutes before. She was pinned to the door at least a foot off the ground, blood seeping down her exposed legs. One boot was missing, an obvious result of the struggle that ensued before the end. A pool of blood sat outside the door and some had been splashed across the door and what little of the wall they could see. Copious amounts of blood oozed form the jagged wound.

Numbness washed over Michael as he stared at the woman, who stared back with softness in her eyes.

"I'm finally free," she whispered. Her eyes glazed over and lost their focus then her head fell lifelessly forward.

Michael sank to his knees. "She's—"

Trey touched his shoulder. "From what we read and what she said, this is what she wanted."

Michael felt a hollow hole in his own chest. Was death the only thing in store for them? Would they end up like Maria? Unable to escape and longing for death? Maybe that's what she was trying to tell them. Death was the only way out.

He peered out into the room and realized that it was empty. Pyramid Head was gone.

Trey kneeled down next to Michael, who despite his brown skin had paled. "Mike, are you okay?"

Michael stared at Maria for a moment before answering. "No. No, I'm not."

Trey shook his head in response, "No, you're going to be okay. We all are. Isn't that what you keep telling us? Well, if you're going to keep telling us that, then you have to believe it too. We need each other. We need you. You're the strong one of the group that's going to pull us through this. Heather's the one with the experience, Christine's the fighter, and me. Well, I guess I'm the genius, comic relief."

Michael shook his head. "I don't know anymore. I thought I had it figured out, but I don't. Why us?"

Trey shook his head. "Maybe there isn't a reason. Maybe it's some kind of sick, twisted joke. Maybe we really are bad people and we just don't know it. Maybe we're the ones that have been chosen to end whatever's going on here. We're not going to know anything unless we keep moving forward."

Michael took a deep breath. Trey stood and offered his hand, which Michael took gratefully and stood. "Let's find Heather and Christine and get the hell out of here."

Trey gave him a pat on the shoulder as they moved past Maria, keeping their gazes in the opposite direction.

Still, doubt continued to linger in Michael's mind and something told him that the worst was still to come.

Notes:

I appreciate everyone who's been keeping up with the story. I had a rather large delay—I live in Biloxi, MS, which of course was blasted by Hurricane Katrina. It's been slow, but the city is recovering. To any of you that volunteered, donated, or simply prayed for anyone down here on the Gulf Coast, I offer up a huge thanks. Now, on with the notes.

There is a gap in this story on how exactly Harry finds Cybil and Douglas in the attic—it will be covered in Silent Hill: Harry Mason.

There are several theories out there (I've researched many of them) on what exactly Pyramid Head represented. I chose to go with the theory that Pyramid Head a demented representation other side of James, which is why it continually killed Maria. Combine that with Pyramid Head's role as an executioner-type, and you get trouble for the teens.

Sweetness328: I'm glad you found the story and you are enjoying it. And here is the next chapter—hope you enjoy

Centurious: I appreciate the compliments. As you saw from this chapter Maria and James (kind of—see my note above) were in this story. Maria's appearance was short and tragic, but hopefully, it added some resolve to her story.

Crazyb1tch85: Well, Pyramid Head is definitely on the scene and something tells me he is going to be plaguing our protagonists for a few more chapters. Well, with this chapter, the teens are asking some of the same questions you've posed. And hopefully, they'll start getting a few answers. Thanks for the review and let me know how you like this chapter—oh, and it definitely won't be 100 chapters (I don't think I could ever keep someone interested for that long...)

Richard B. Sampson Jr.: Well, you see who the crazy woman is. Check out Silent Hill 2, and you'll find out a little more about Maria and James Sunderland—and the ever-popular and gruesome Pyramid Head

PJ: Thanks for the reviews and I hope I can continue to freak you out

Rodarian: The woman on the bed idea just kind of came to me. I was actually kind of creeped out as I wrote it too. If you've ever seen Hellraiser, then the scene might seem a bit familiar too. Okay, what about Kate Hudson for Cybil?

Shortey: The update is here, my friend. Let me know what you think

Skittlefratz: Heroes can definitely die, as our heroes have had a few close-calls, but they're getting closer and closer. I think our four heroes are resourceful and clever enough to see this one through to the end, but as in all things, there are no guarantees...

Duelist-17: You guessed right—our friend Pyramid Head is back and in full effect

Demeter aka Obsessed Jackalope: Umm—that's quite a unique name you chose there. Anyways, glad you like Trey—somehow he's grown to be quite the character and it seems several folks like him too.


	19. Into the Fire

I.

Orange and yellow light flickered in the darkness, bathing the room in a fiery luminescence. The origin of the light was actually a fiery pillar in the middle of the room that much to Heather and Christine's horror began to move. The movements were frantic and erratic. Appendages whipped about desperately trying to rid themselves of the scorching inferno that now enveloped some poor, genderless soul.

"Oh no," Heather whispered. They were too late to save whoever this individual was. Someone or something had probably gotten to them and planned on torturing them to death. Maybe they scared the torturer away, but they still had to try to save the victim.

The screams rose even higher as the figure danced wildly in the middle of the room, leaving footprints of fire in several spots.

"Grab the sheets from the bed, maybe we can—" Heather began, but stopped when the figure charged them.

Christine screamed at the top of her lungs, spun on her heel, and took off down the hallway in almost one fluid motion. Heather wasn't a screamer, but she took off in a flash right behind Christine.

They thudded down the hallway, closely pursued by the flaming victim. Christine made a sharp left and clambered down the stairs, almost taking a spill as she skipped three stairs at the bottom. Heather was right behind her, thankful that the figure tumbled down the stairs. That gave them a few extra seconds to figure out how they were going to save themselves.

II.

"She's gone and so is that Pyramid thing," Trey stated.

He stared at the spot he had last seen the unconscious woman, slumped against the wall behind Pyramid Head. Trey glanced to the immediate left and right, but found no clue as to where she or the monster had gone. Nothing seemed out of place, but the room was a terrible mess so even if something was out of place, he wouldn't be able to tell.

"Pyramid Head left suddenly, even though it had us trapped in the bathroom. It could have easily attacked us. Maybe the woman escaped and Pyramid Head chased her."

"So, she's basically saved our lives?"

"At maybe the cost of her own," Michael solemnly said. "We've got to find her."

Both of them consciously kept their backs to the door, where Maria now hung lifelessly with a large blade protruding from her chest, courtesy of Pyramid Head.

Trey shifted his weight, "Well, where do we start?"

Michael let silence linger for a few moments as he thought about it. "I don't know."

Trey motioned over Michael's shoulder, "Hey, check that out."

Michael turned and saw a map of the house tacked on the wall. He pulled it down and studied it. Apparently, there were two floors, the basement, and an attic. But the stairs to the attic floor were in a back hallway on the second floor.

"What a weird design for a house," Michael mentioned. He scribbled a few notes on the map then slipped it into his backpack. "According to the map, there are three other rooms past the door in the kitchen."

"So you think she may still be here?"

"This house is bigger than I thought, someone could easily be in another part of the house and we wouldn't know it. There was another door off the kitchen that we didn't check. It leads to a few other rooms."

Trey nodded in agreement as he led the way out of the room and back into the dim hallway. They crept along quietly, hoping to hear something that would let them know where Pyramid Head and the strange woman had gone. The silence was almost overbearing as they emerged from the hallway into the living room. Trey was ready to say something when a high-pitched scream and thudding footsteps rang out from above them.

"What the hell?" Trey reactively said. He frantically glanced back and forth, trying to figure out what was happening.

Michael was startled. The first thing he imagined was the unknown woman pinned against a door with a large blade jutting from her midsection in the same way Maria had met her demise. But then, he heard multiple footsteps, two sets scrambling above them.

"Trey, it's the girls!"

They turned to see Christine almost fall down the stairs. Heather leaped down behind her, nearly taking a spill herself, rounded the corner, and skipped three steps to the bottom. Before they could ask what they were running from, the crackle of fire and flickering light tumbled down the stairs. The flaming haunt picked itself up and ran down the rest of the stairs.

"Holy shit," Trey marveled.

"Run!" Heather choked out.

"Let me burn!" the figure screamed as it suddenly rushed the teens. The figure moved with inhuman speed but with awkward and frantic movements. There was no way that they would be able to escape it.

Trey grabbed Christine by the waist and spun around, throwing them to the ground. Michael did the same thing to Heather, but fell in the opposite direction. He and Heather scrambled backwards across the floor, hoping to get out of the figure's reach.

Instead of pouncing on the teens and turning them into a ball of flesh and fire, the figure continued on and threw itself into the fireplace. The fire sparked up brightly, followed by a satisfying wail as the smoke floated about and a putrid smell filled the room.

As quickly as the fire had started, it vanished, leaving behind a pile of ashes. The teens sat stunned for a moment, not sure whether they should be glad that the figure disposed of itself or disturbed that the person underneath the flames consciously threw himself into the fireplace, sealing his fate.

"Is everyone okay?" Michael finally broke the uneasy silence that had settled. He helped Heather to her feet. Trey and Christine stood as well.

"He said to let him burn. Do you think he set himself on fire?" Christine solemnly asked.

Michael shook his head, suddenly feeling the burden of two deaths weighing him down. It was only minutes ago that Maria had been viciously killed by Pyramid Head, and now, some hapless soul had become a victim too, but it is possible that unlike Maria, it was his own choice. The thought that the man had set himself on fire disturbed him even more.

"Umm, this is just a thought, but does anyone else think this place is just a little WEIRD AND CRAZY?" Trey's voice rose from calm to a distinct shout.

Heather shook her head, "Are you done?"

Trey glared at her. "No, I'm not done! We just saw a woman ran through by some pyramid thing, then this guy comes running out and throws himself into the fireplace, then poof, he's a ball of ash. Sorry, but this," he made an over-exaggerated sweeping motion, "this is not working for me."

Trey's tantrum fell on one set of deaf ears. Christine gazed at the fireplace. She wondered who the man was, what happened, how he got in the house, if it was his house, and how he had made it this long with monsters roaming around. If he had truly set himself on fire, was he really trying to kill himself? Was that the only way to escape?

Christine felt herself sinking into despair. Never in her life had she been exposed to so much horror, so much fear. But in only a few short hours, her life had been endangered several times and she felt powerless.

"Maybe we should just concentrate on finding Tina and getting out of here," Michael interjected, hoping to refocus their efforts away from quibbling. "And we still have to find the other coins."

"Okay, I just had a moment. I'm good now," Trey said and stretched as if he had gotten a load off his shoulders.

"You're not funny," Heather coolly replied.

Before Christine could agree, her eyes caught sight of a burnt scrap of paper sitting on the edge of the fireplace. "Hey, what's that?" She quickly crossed the room and grabbed the rough, blackened paper.

Trey stopped mid-sentence as Christine stood with the paper in hand.

"Does it say anything?" Heather asked.

She flipped it over in her hands then read: "Bright, feverish, cleansing flame, sear my flesh, purify my soul and leave nothing behind but my earthly riches," Christine read. "Earthly riches," Christine repeated absently. Then an idea came to her, "Heather, didn't the riddle by the door say something about earth?"

"Yeah. Earth, air, and water are supposed to combine when the sun hovers over the moon to open up the path or something like that."

Christine thought for a moment then let her eyes shift focus from the note to the fireplace. A thick layer of ash covered the bottom of the fireplace. Something could easily be hidden in there. But then again, that was a person's ashes. Digging through them was not only disrespectful to the dead, but it was downright gross. It didn't help that the smell of burning flesh still lingered in the air.

But the person wanted them to find this note, wanted them to find what he left behind, didn't he? Christine shook off her doubt and kneeled in front of the fireplace, waving away the remnants of smoke. She reluctantly stuck her hands in and sifted through the ash. She thought the effort was useless until her fingers grazed across something hard. She plucked the round object and stood. Christine blew the ash and residue from both sides.

"I think this is our earth coin," Christine held up the coin, dirty, but clearly the piece of the puzzle they were looking for.

Michael fished in his pocket and produced two coins. "We've got the sun coin and the water coin. But where is the air coin?"

"Maybe it will just fall out of the sky," Trey curtly replied.

Michael heard a clattering sound then something hit the ceiling above then a round object sailed down toward his face. Reacting quickly, he caught the cold object and studied it.

"What is it?" Christine asked.

"You're not going to believe this," Michael held the object up for them to see. "It's the air coin."

Christine perked up, "Good, maybe we can—"

"Find that woman," Michael interjected. When met with a puzzled look from Heather and Christine, Michael figured he had some explaining to do. Trey nodded in silent agreement for Michael to tell them what happened.

Leaving out no detail, Michael told them what happened, up to when they saw Heather and Christine running down the stairs. "I won't let anyone else die," he finished. "I've got this map. Maybe we should check the rest of the first floor _together_."

This time, there was no argument.

III.

Michael McNeal pushed open the door carefully, waiting for Pyramid Head or some other horrific monstrosity to leap from the darkness and tear out his throat. But nothing happened. They found themselves in a short hallway lined with two doors on either side and one at the end of the hallway.

He glanced back toward Heather, who had him covered with her gun. Trey held his crossbow aggressively, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Christine lingered behind him since she only had a taser as a weapon.

As he stepped into the narrow corridor, Michael noticed a large grandfather clock next to the door on the right. As he neared it, he took a closer look at it and realized the clock didn't work. The carefully sculpted hands sat at nine o'clock, secured by a glass door with a small keyhole.

Before Michael could comment, the knob turned. He stepped back cautiously pointing his gun towards the door. Heather reacted quickly, covering the door as well, while Trey pushed Christine back and pointed his crossbow at the door. They all watched the lights from behind the door flicker on and off.

"What's going on in there?" Heather asked.

Michael shook his head, unsure of whether someone needed help or if they were the ones in trouble. Whatever was behind the door began to wrench on it desperately then the pounding started. Someone was trying to get out of there.

Lowering his gun, Michael moved to the door and shouted, "Hey, is someone in there? Do you need help?"

The knob continued to turn and the pounding continued, but a muffled voice finally replied, "Hey, we can't open the door! Help! There's something in here!"

The thought of Pyramid Head crossed his mind briefly. Surely it heard (even though Michael thought it didn't have any ears) all this noise they were making. It would only be a matter of time before it came for them.

But he pushed that thought aside. They would deal with Pyramid Head when he came. Right now, there was someone that needed their help. And the voice sounded female, so there was a good possibility it was the woman they were looking for.

Michael tried to turn the knob as well, but the door wouldn't budge. He stepped back and rammed his shoulder, but the door didn't even shift slightly. He then replied, "Okay. We can't open it from this side either. Stand back, maybe we can shoot the doorknob!"

It always worked on the movies. The hero took a step back, shot the doorknob, then it fell to pieces, gaining the hero access to some secret documents or another path of escape. This was far from an action movie, but it didn't hurt to try. But what was the worst that could happen?

_Well, for starters, the bullet could ricochet off the metal and hit you right in the forehead—way to go hero! Or maybe the bullet actually messes up the knob then chances of getting in there would really be ruined. Or the bullet could go through and hit the people you're trying to save—real smooth._

Michael sighed inward at the thoughts he was having.

"We can't. There's something dangerous in here!" a male voice now replied. So now there were two people in there and something dangerous along with them. So if they did open the door, chances were that they would let something else out too.

"Okay!" Michael replied. He lowered his voice, "There's something in there. I don't know what to do. The door won't open and if something goes wrong with shooting the knob, I could hit the people inside of there."

"Mike, what if it's a trick. I mean, what if some crazy people are trying to trick us? Maybe they were locked in there for a reason," Christine suggested.

Heather's expression remained neutral, "She has a point. The people I've met so far haven't been exactly sane."

"We have to take that chance. That woman, maybe she's in there and if she is, then she saved our lives earlier. If it is a trick, we'll deal with it _after_ we open the door."

"Fair enough," Heather replied. "Where do we start?"

"Hey, look at that," Trey said and motioned with his head toward the clock. Michael hadn't noticed it before but there was something scrawled in red ink (he assumed it was thick, dripping red ink) on the side of the clock.

"Please, hurry!" the female yelled again.

Michael read through the riddle, quietly mouthing the words:

_The key is the clock, the clock is the key_

_Oh what time should it be?_

_Twelve or eight or maybe three_

_Or one hand coupled with a semi_

"So, I was with the riddle until the last line. What the hell does that mean?" Trey asked.

"One hand with a semi?" Christine repeated.

Heather shook her head, "Dammit! I'm so sick of everything being a damn riddle or puzzle."

"Well, the first line might be that the key to this glass door is somewhere else, like another clock. Maybe it's in one of these other rooms," Michael deduced. "The rest is telling us what time we should set the clock to."

Trey started toward the room across from where they stood. He tried the knob, but it seemed broken. There was no way into the room. He quickly approached the last door and threw open the door.

"Hey, there's a trick to open this door. We're going to get you out, just stay calm!" Michael tried to reassure them.

"You've got to hurry! She's going to kill us!" the female cried out.

"We won't let you die. We'll be right back!" Michael turned from the door and jogged to catch up with Trey, Heather, and Christine, who were already examining the large room.

This room was no different from the rest: messy, neglected, and eerie. Michael decided that it must be some kind of grand room. He noticed a piano pushed to the far corner, several bookcases, stacks of books everywhere, a desk with papers strewn about, and some heavy-looking pieces of furniture. This room looked like it was used often, despite the thin layer of dust that had settled on everything. A single lamp on the desk bathed the room in soft white, but still sinister shadows held their ground making recesses and small spaces appear to be black holes waiting to snatch someone into their eternal dark.

Christine, Trey, and Heather didn't stray too far apart, though they were in the same room. They were huddled on the right side of the room near the large bookcase.

"Find a clock yet?" Michael urgently asked.

"Yeah, right here," Heather had found the clock only a moment before Michael had walked in. The small, modern-looking clock had only one number on it—seven. And both hands rested on the seven. The rest of the places that numbers should have been were stained with what looked like blood.

Christine shifted her weight and pushed her hair behind her ear. "So is this another puzzle we have to solve? Why is there only one number on the clock?"

The teens stared at the clock silently wondering just what they were supposed to make of it.

"I've got it," Trey snapped his fingers. "Listen, I took flying lessons. When the instructor pilot wanted me to look at something, he would always reference it with a clock setting. Like right in front of me would be twelve o'clock," he then pointed slightly off to the right, "that would be one o'clock and so on. If this thing is pointing to seven o'clock, then we need to check over there."

"Are you sure this time? Your biology background wasn't much help earlier," Christine reminded him.

"Of course I'm sure," Trey smugly said and turned to head in that direction. But Michael had beat him to it and frantically searched over everything in the vicinity.

"I don't see a key," Michel moved quickly, borderline frantically, looking for the object. "Wait, Trey," Michael found a small key stuck in between a stack of books, "you're a genius."

"I do what I can. Let's get back to the clock."

Michael led the way back to the clock followed by Heather and Trey. Christine trailed behind, but suddenly stopped at the door.

"Christine," a whisper floated through the room.

Christine immediately sensed something dangerous lurking just out of her sight, jumping from shadow to shadow. She knew that she should catch up to the others, dash out of the room, and slam the door behind her without another glance back. But the whisper was enticing, almost hypnotic.

She paused and took a step back into the room. "Hello?" Christine immediately cursed herself, not only was she being foolish and lingering behind, but she called out as if something would answer her back. And if something did answer back, she knew she would be in _real_ trouble.

Despite knowing what she was doing wrong, the natural curiosity overpowered any sense of reason, despite the circumstances. Christine took another step into the room. She scanned every corner and surface quickly but still couldn't pinpoint where it had come from.

The whisper became a gravelly hiss, "Christine."

"Who's there?" she reflexively said, then cursed herself again. Dammit, it was like she was in a bad horror movie.

The door closed behind her and she spun quickly with the taser in her hand. When her eyes met with someone else's she became dizzy and almost passed out. A small shiver went down her back as she recognized the person that now had her trapped in the room. The messy brown hair, blood streaked face, dark eyes, malevolent stare, and the unmistakable gravelly voice.

"Oh the sights I have to show you," he said as he closed in on Christine.

Notes:

In case you're wondering who's inside of the room, check out Chapter 6 of Silent Hill: Harry Mason—you'll find out exactly what's going on in there

Two-bite-brownies: Thanks for the review! Yes, Maria's story was tragic and her time in this story was no less awful. Her story didn't quite have the happy ending she deserved...

Scribe08: I'm glad you like the story so far. I've tried to make it diverse and keep you all guessing as to what would happen next. Read the rest and let me know what you think.

Rodarian: Yeah, I can definitely see the ageless and quite beautiful Heather Locklear portraying a convincing Cybil—what do you think of Charlize Theron? Hopefully, you've figured out who the dark haired woman is—Tina, who first showed up in Silent Hill: Harry Mason

Richard B. Sampson Jr: Thanks for brainstorming the other night—the clock idea will develop more in the next chapter.

Crazyb1tch85: Things are slowly getting back to normal here after the hurricane—it's been a little over two months—there's still a lot of rebuilding to be done though. And I leave you with yet another cliffhanger—what will happen to Christine? Chances are it won't be good...

Shortey: I know it's been awhile again, but here's the latest chapter!

Demo the Bounding Jackalope: Let me know what you think of this chapter.


	20. Moving On

I.

Michael McNeal dashed down the hallway, the feeling of triumph growing deep within his soul. They had found the solution to the puzzle and gained the key to the clock in front of the door. In only a few moments, they would unlock the door and hopefully save the people that were trapped with some horrible incarnation of evil.

The key slipped into the door with no problem and with a _click_, the lock disengaged. The clock door opened on its own, leaving the face of the clock exposed and totally accessible. Michael gave a glance of reassurance toward his companions then turned his attention back to the clock.

Before he could make another move, Michael heard a voice call out to him.

"Are you there?" the female voice frantically shouted.

"Yes, we're here. We've almost got the door open, just give us a minute," Michael replied. The feeling of triumph slowly vanished as he realized the original puzzle still had to be solved. Only then would the door unlock and the two people could escape whatever horror they faced.

Michael quickly reread through the verse scrawled on the wall.

_The key is the clock, the clock is the key_

_Oh what time should it be?_

_Twelve or eight or maybe three_

_Or one hand coupled with a semi_

"It doesn't even rhyme," Heather flatly stated. Michael looked back at her for a moment with a cross between exasperation and confusion. "I'm just saying that the stupid riddle doesn't rhyme. The only thing I keep thinking about is a semi-truck."

If they had been in another situation without the lives of strangers hanging in the balance, Michael may have laughed at the sheer nature of what they were doing. In the middle of battling unthinkable creatures and exploring a creepy old house, they come upon a strange riddle and one of the first observations is that it doesn't rhyme. For some reason, it seemed downright hilarious to Michael.

"Wait, that's how I read it too," Trey admitted. "But I don't think that's right. I mean, it could be but—" he trailed off. He felt as if they were missing an important part of solving the puzzle, but he couldn't pinpoint what that part was.

Heather shifted her weight, but then stepped forward. "Wait, maybe we were reading it wrong. Think about a semicircle. It's kind of stupid, but some people say semi-circle, but I've heard some people say _semee_-circle."

"If you say it like that then it does rhyme," Michael continued to stare at the clock.

Then, it hit him. One hand, well it had five fingers and semi was a prefix for half, like a semicircle. Half a circle. Half in clock speak would be thirty minutes. Five thirty—that time was strangely familiar to Michael. Not because it occurred twice a day, but it was a solution to another clock puzzle, one he had run into before he went to college.

Michael pushed the memory away though. He didn't have time to reflect on that incident. He moved swiftly, pushing the stiff hands to reflect five thirty. Once he had it set, he took a step back.

A chime resounded through the hallway and the door clicked. Before Michael could make a move, the door burst open. A man and a woman tumbled out and the door lingered open for a moment. A girl or something that looked like a girl stood in the middle of the room. Her eyes were completely white and blood seeped from all over her body, covering the room in vein-like appendages. Her head frantically jerked back and forth as her body rocked.

"What is that?" Trey exclaimed.

The girl opened her mouth in a silent O then a hellish shriek escaped her lips. It started as a quiet wail but quickly escalated into a horrendous scream filled with pain and terror.

Henry Townsend seemed to be the only one not frozen in place by the horrific sight. He moved swiftly and slammed the door, hoping to keep the danger confined to that room. He rested on the doorknob for a moment, glad to have escaped but now apprehensive about their saviors.

"Can we trust you?" Henry leaned against the door.

Michael nodded his head, "We're actually pretty sane considering the circumstances."

Henry glanced the three teens over. The one that spoke, a young, Black man, looked like a teenager, dressed in jeans, brown boots, and white, long-sleeved button down shirt underneath a zip up Polo sweater. He also had a black backpack pulled over both shoulders. The one next to him was a dark-haired teen, looked older than the other guy, jeans, short-sleeved and tight shirt, large belt buckle, casual shoes. The girl wore a short skirt, orange turtleneck, high boots, messy and unstructured hair. She was cute but young. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them. Actually, they looked like normal teens in an abnormal situation.

Henry nodded, acknowledging Michael's point. "Okay, before this girl gets out we have to—"

"Where's Christine?" Trey glanced around the hallway. His face paled as he turned to Michael. "Where is she?"

Michael looked toward the room at the end. Didn't he leave the door open when he left? It was then he noticed the smothering silence that had settled about them. The girl behind the closed door made no other sounds, which could have been a good sign or bad. Michael couldn't decide which.

"Christine?" Michael called. The hallway was suddenly much longer than Michael remembered. The door shrank away as if it was trying to escape their prying eyes. He blinked hard then looked at the door again. It hadn't moved. It was just his imagination. But still, there was no answer from Christine.

"Wait, what's going on?" Tina asked. She moved close to Henry and they drew closer to the teens, who crept slowly toward the door, Michael in the lead.

Though Michael may have appeared to be brave, a knot of dread weighed his stomach down and a shiver of fear shook his body. Something terrible had happened and now, it was waiting for them.

II.

For the first time, Christine truly feared for her life.

No matter what else had happened that night, she was with someone. Trey, Michael, or Heather—either with one of them or they were all together. Now, Christine found herself separated and alone. Not really alone if she counted the grisly sight of a man looming in front of her.

Christine tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone completely dry. She didn't even think about screaming. Surely nothing but a hoarse, dry whisper would have barely escaped. She would save her scream for when she really needed it.

"What do you want?" her voice quivered, betraying her panic.

The man simply made a noise, something between a laugh and a wheeze and continued to advance on her.

Christine weighed her options. The man had positioned himself directly between Christine and the door. If she tried to run either way, he would simply back up and cover the door, blocking the way out. There was a window to the right and they were on the first floor. But then again, she could be escaping one danger to fall right into another. Maybe the fanatical stranger simply wanted to talk to her.

_Yeah, the same way he talked to Father Tom. A real eye-popping conversation._

Her body moved on its own, reacting to the feeling of imminent danger, she took a step backwards in an attempt to put some distance back between her and the man. As she moved back, Christine felt a stack of books stop her retreat. She slid around them, but continued to move backwards, until she hit the bookcase.

"Who are you?" her voice was dry and whispery.

"Greg Wallace. An artist. A storyteller. This is my hell and I want everyone to see. Everyone should know."

Christine's mind immediately focused on the paintings that they had seen. Strange depictions of Silent Hill, morbid glimpses into the past, frightening images of torture, portraits of monsters. Was he the one responsible?

"These pictures, they're yours?" Christine hoped her question would give her some time to formulate how to escape. And the man fell into her trap, like most villainous characters.

"Of course. I am the one to make others see, give your eyes a feast of our lord's new world order. And now, you are the next visionary. You will see the future and I will help you."

He didn't talk for as long as Christine would have hoped, but it was long enough for her to muster up enough courage to do what she needed to do. As she hoped, the man moved quickly toward her, obviously underestimating her. She knew he expected her to scream and try to run, which is why she didn't.

Christine lowered her center of gravity then her heel met his chin. The man stumbled back, stunned from the blow, just as Christine hoped. Now, she had found an opening.

"You bastard!" she whipped around with a spin kick to his mid-section. She continued her barrage of self-defense with a jab to his face, a spinning elbow, a knee to his groin, and finished with a knuckle jab to his throat. She spun around and grabbed the first book she could get her hands on and made it a deadly weapon. She bashed him on either sides of his face then brought the book down on top of his head.

The man fell in a heap to the ground and stifled a painful scream. "You bitch," he seethed.

"That's what they all say," she planted her heel into his forehead, knocking him unconscious.

_Ten years of kickboxing, asshole,_ Christine wallowed in her victory for a moment before stepping over the fallen outcast. She vowed not to foolishly separate herself from her friends as she made her way to the door.

As she reached for the doorknob, a slight nose drew her attention. Christine turned and surveyed the room and knew immediately she was still in danger. The body of the artist was gone and suddenly, all the dark recesses of the room seemed much more fluid, the hiding places that could conceal him suddenly stood out, and the room itself seemed to turn into one sizeable danger zone.

_Just get out of here,_ Christine told herself. She had won her battle, quickly and decisively. Yet, she couldn't leave, knowing that guy was still lurking around. Maybe he was the one following them around, leaving the strange notes. Maybe he had something to do with all of this. People these days could easily find a recipe for a hallucinatory gas and feed it to unknowing victims. And all four of them—Michael, Trey, Heather, and Christine—were unwitting victims. To stop him would mean to stop all this.

At least she tried to rationalize it that way. But deep down, Christine knew there was something fundamentally evil about this town. And it wasn't an accident that they were there. Furthermore, it wasn't an accident that she was alone with this guy.

Christine took a step back into the room, discarding her desire to leave and ignoring the growing knot in her stomach. Her eyes darted over everything, never lingering too long in one spot for fear he would actually come from somewhere she hadn't looked yet.

She stepped forward, but the unmistakable feeling of someone behind her made her freeze. Christine turned slowly to the figure behind her. She managed to suck in a breath as she was snatched into darkness.

III.

"I don't understand where she could have gone. She was right behind me. There's no way something could've happened to her," Trey threw a musty book against the wall, which stirred up a cloud of dust.

Michael McNeal stood by the clock which had been an important puzzle earlier. His face was locked in a pensive expression as he looked over the room again. They must have missed something—there was no way that Christine could be gone. And according to the map, there was no other way out of this room.

"It doesn't make sense," Tina commented. She and Henry lingered by the door. Henry kept a constant watch on the door that the girl was behind, ensuring they weren't surprised by an unwelcome guest. Tina stayed by his side. She couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility for Christine's disappearance. If they hadn't gotten trapped, these teens would've never been separated. At least, that's how she saw it.

A small desk illuminated by a single lamp drew Tina's attention. Leaving Henry's side, she stepped closer to examine the small red diary that was centered on the desktop. Without realizing it, Tina reached for the book and flipped through it. An entry from a few weeks before caught her eye.

_I talked to Joseph today about the orphanage, Wish House—the one Sara came from. He told me about what they did to those kids there. I can't believe that a religious group would do such horrendous things. No matter how I try, I can't help thinking that Sara was a victim as well._

Feeling uneasy, Tina turned a few more pages.

_There's something wrong with this entire town. Evil—that's the only way I know how to describe it. And somehow, I feel that Sara is somehow connected to it. I'm going to leave this place in the morning. I'm taking Sara away from here. I don't know if we'll make it, but I have to keep them from getting her, their new "mother". It all sounds so crazy, yet, deep down I know that this is real..._

Two pages later, Tina found the last entry.

_I know what they did to her to Sara. I have to get her out of here. If what I found is true, then she's in terrible danger. We all are. If The Order finds out what I know I—_

The strange girl. Maybe that girl was Sara, the child mentioned in the diary. But if she was here, what happened to the writer of the diary?

"Did you find something?" Michael's voice cut through Tina's apprehension.

"Yeah. I think this might be important," she pointed out the entries in the diary. After they had read through them, Tina voiced her conclusion, "That girl, the one that was in that room, I think she's the girl that's mentioned in this diary."

"I think I've read some of the stories about Wish House. A guy, Joseph Schreiber, wrote most of those stories. But I think he disappeared a few months ago."

"Disappeared?" Henry repeated.

"Just gone. No one is sure what happened, but most people suspect that Wish House had something to do with it. His stories were exposing strange things that went on there," Michael explained.

"It's an orphanage, isn't it?" Trey asked.

Michael nodded, "Run by a cult apparently, like the one Father Tom was obviously a part of. They tortured and brainwashed the children there. At least that's what the stories said. And this diary confirms that something strange was going on here before we got here."

"I think most of the town was involved somehow," Trey added. "I saw the people here chanting and then they changed into some of these terrible monsters we see."

"These monsters are people?" Michael reeled at the thought of having actually killed people.

"They're not people. They've sacrificed their humanity and lives to serve Samael," Heather replied. "They're nothing but nightmarish fragments of Samael's mind now."

Tina shook her head. "But now, two people are missing, and we can't figure out where to begin."

"Two?" Michael repeated.

"Yeah, I was saved from a crazy doctor in the hospital by a guy named Harry Mason."

Michael and Trey looked at each other then looked at Heather. They both realized that Tina had mentioned Harry Mason, Heather's father. But he was dead, wasn't he?

"What?" Heather bolted across the room and stopped inches away from Tina. "What did you say?"

"Heather, calm down," Michael gently pulled her arm, but Heather resisted. She snatched her arm out of his reach and closed the already tight gap between her and Tina.

"Wait a minute. You're Heather? Then you're—"

"Yes, Harry Mason is—was—my father. But he's dead."

Tina suddenly felt dizzy as if everything she knew had suddenly collapsed. "That's not true. He saved me from the doctor and we were in this house together. I know he was Harry Mason. I'm not crazy."

"No, you're not," Henry broke in. "Harry Mason was barely alive when I found him. I was in my apartment one moment then the next, I was in his. He was barely holding on. I took him to Brookhaven Hospital, but he was taken. Then that Pyramid-thing attacked me."

"My father—he's alive?" Heather took an unsteady step back. Michael grabbed her arm to give her support. "I thought he was dead. No, he was. Douglas and I were there. There was so much blood. We covered him with a sheet. He wasn't breathing. He was gone—"

Michael moved Heather to the other side of the room and sat her down on the floor. "Heather," she leaned in close to her, "Heather, snap out of it."

She snapped out of her shock, her dark brown eyes glazed with tears, "He's alive?"

"If he's alive, we'll find him. Him and Christine both."

Heather's eyes dropped to her lap. She shook her head in disgust, "I can't believe I'm crying—" she sniffled quietly and turned her attention to her gun. "We should probably try to use those coins."

Michael knew that she was trying to take her mind off the situation. He could only imagine what it would be like to know your father was dead, but then to find out later that he wasn't. And that he was somewhere out there in the same position they were in: lost, confused, and vulnerable.

"Yeah, we'll do that. You're with us, right?"

Heather nodded. "Of course I am," her voice still shook, "We'll find my father and Christine."

"Oh, no, you won't find her. Our lord has her now," the raspy voice floated from a dark corner, opposite where the five stood.

Michael snapped into a firing position with his gun pointed toward the darkness. "Who's there?"

The battered man stepped forward, melting out of the shadows into a quasi-existence.

"It's the weirdo from earlier," Trey recalled. The man was the same one that held Father Tom's eyes in his hands. Trey couldn't remember exactly what he said, but he felt much better when they were out of his presence. Now, that same uneasy feeling crept through Trey.

"You lord?" Heather asked. "That's impossible. I was supposed to be the mother of god but I expelled it. Claudia couldn't have birthed that thing."

"Oh, yes, she has. At the cost of her own life. Too bad, no revenge for you."

"But you know that my father is alive, don't you?" Heather tried to both test Tina's story and try to keep the man talking.

"Harry Mason. That name is usually followed by curses of revenge. Yes, your _father_ is alive. And we have a much more cooperative host for our lord to be fully born."

"Christine?" Trey whispered.

"Hmmm—yes," he hissed. "The new mother of god."

Heather felt as though she was going to be sick. She should have stopped Claudia when she had the chance, but Heather wasn't strong enough. And now, her lack of strength had caused all this, including the abduction of Christine.

"Where are they?" Heather angrily asked.

The man gave a high pitched giggle, "Nowhere."

Suddenly, Trey lunged forward and had his hands around the man's throat. "Dammit, no more games. Tell us where she is!"

"Trey!" Michael called as he rushed forward. "Henry, help me!"

Between Michael and Henry, they were able to pull Trey off the man but not without a struggle. As soon as they separated Trey from the man, he sunk back into the shadows, disappearing from existence.

"Trey, he's right. Christine is nowhere. And the door in the basement is the way there," Heather said. "We should go before it's too late."

Michael turned to Henry and Tina. "You're welcome to come with us."

Tina shook her head. "I feel like there's something that we're missing here. You know where Christine is, so find her. For you, Heather, Henry and I will find your father and make sure you're united."

"Thank you," Heather replied.

There were a few more parting words then the teens made their way back to the basement, determined to find Christine and to stop whatever force was behind the horrors of Silent Hill.

Notes:

Crazyb1tch85: The identity of the enflamed man will probably be discovered by Henry and Tina, since the teens have now moved on. Heather is one of my favorites too, I felt like I was able to give her a little more personality by grouping her with some other people around her age. And yes, I did want them to find the coin once and for all, but the coin falling wasn't just a random thing. Remember that Cybil actually had the air coin. Silent Hill: Harry Mason will detail just how it went from Cybil's hands to floating down into Michael's. I'm glad you liked the thoughts Michael was having. You're the only one that has commented on it. I thought it was a good addition to the normal dialog. I'll probably throw in a bit more of that as time goes on. And as of now, it doesn't seem the girl can get out, but that could change at any given moment. Hopefully, you feel a little better about Christine after this chapter. She is an unexpected tough girl, not quite the same as Heather, but a tough girl nonetheless. This is a slow chapter too, but I promise the action will pick up next chapter. Let me know what you think.

Shortey: I think the artist was in more trouble than Christine was. Well, at least for a few minutes. It's always a possibility that someone will die, and it may be someone that you least expect. Read on, my friend and let me know what you think.

DarknessinShadows: Updated!

Demo the Bounding Jackalope: Did you like who they found behind the door? Again, this is one of those overlapping parts from my other Silent Hill story. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think of the new chapter.

Rodarian: And Heather now knows that Harry Mason is alive. Hopefully, everyone will find each other and have a happy ending, but this is Silent Hill, known for not quite so happy endings. Hmm, Harry in a movie, I think Ryan Reynolds might be able to pull it off. I know he may be too young, but I think it would be a good choice.


	21. Discovery

I.

The heavy metal door slammed behind the three teens, sending a resounding clang down the length of the corroded corridor. As the sound faded, smothering silence quickly settled in.

Michael McNeal inspected the hallway and immediately determined that they were back in the other version of Silent Hill. Where the house had carpeted floors, reasonably white walls, and a ceiling, the long hallway was rusty, tainted with different shades of dark reds, browns, and black. The floor was now a grated platform, opening to a vast darkness below. The ceiling was simply a series of metal panels affixed together the length of the hallway. And there were more solid-looking doors lined either side of the hallway.

An unrecognizable stench hovered in the air and Heather wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff.

Michael turned and pushed on the metal door they had just entered from. "The door is locked—I don't think we'll be able to go back that way," he informed the others. He pulled the map of the house from his backpack and added, "This door doesn't even show up on the map."

"Where the hell are we?" Trey asked, his crossbow pointed down the hallway. Not knowing where he was really unnerved Trey, so he had asked the same question several times since they had entered Silent Hill.

Heather shook her head, "We're nowhere. And we're in trouble." Though she kept her gun at her side, Heather kept her eyes fixated on the ebbing darkness at the end of the hallway. She could swear something moved, but when she would blink, the darkness would appear to be still.

Trey ran his fingers through his brown hair and frowned. "Don't get all cryptic now. What is this place?"

"It's hard to describe. We're in the other world now, the way Samael wants the world to be but it's worse than before. Doors lead to places that they shouldn't and other strange things tend to pop up. It's like chaos and evil combined into one warped existence." Heather paused then added, "If this is happening, the real world and this one are on the brink of merging."

Though she sounded cool and collected, Heather was actually quite tense. It wasn't just the fact that they were in Nowhere, but she could feel the presence of Samael. His evil was like a wave of humidity pulsing through the corridor. The closer they got, the thicker the evil became.

"How are we going to find Christine then?" Trey asked.

"We'll have to—" Michael began but stopped abruptly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone then held it up for Heather and Trey to see. The grey and silver Samsung vibrated energetically, its screen glowing a soft blue. He slipped it back into his pocket and said, "Guys, I think something big is coming. We—" he was cut off by a sudden jerk upwards and his own scream.

He was thrown against the ceiling and remained there as if the laws of gravity had changed just for him. He lay on his back only for a moment before he began to punch and kick, fighting off something that neither Heather nor Trey could see.

"It's got me. It won't let go!" Michael desperately screamed. He continued to wrench from side-to-side in an attempt to throw the invisible weight off of him. The crushing force pressed Michael against the metal. It creaked against the strain then submitted, leaving an impression of Michael's shape in the ceiling. He groaned as the force intensified and drove out his air.

"Michael, grab my hand!" Trey said, stretching toward the ceiling.

Michael didn't hear Trey's words. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart and the rustle of his clothes as he frantically fought off the unseen attacker.

The ceiling didn't seem that high when they first entered the corridor, but now, Michael seemed hopelessly out of Trey's reach. Unless Michael was able to stand, there was no way Trey or Heather would be able to save him.

Before Michael could even attempt to stretch toward Trey, he slid forward toward the darkness along the ceiling. It was only a few feet, a warning shot across the bow, but it was enough to alarm Michael. He felt his backpack pressing uncomfortably against his back and the chill of the metal ceiling slowly sapping his energy. Before he could react, Michael was whisked across the ceiling heading straight toward the darkness.

"Michael, no!" Heather screamed. She and Trey took off in a full sprint after Michael. He continued to struggle against the invisible force, but to no avail. The force continued to drag Michael along the ceiling, keeping him a few feet in front of Heather and Trey.

Heather didn't notice a door creak open ahead of them. But when she did notice the open door, it was too late. Another-or maybe it was the same-invisible force now shoved Heather into the room and flung her against the opposite wall. She bounced off the wall and hit the floor hard.

"Heather! Shit!" Trey screamed. He turned to take a step toward Heather, but kept his eyes glued on Michael, who rapidly shrank away from him. However, Trey immediately wished he had watched where he had stepped. Trey suddenly felt unbalanced—like the earth moved underneath him. His arms flailed in an attempt to regain his balance and in his uncoordinated sway, his eyes shot to the grating.

The grated floor wasn't there anymore. Trey now stood in a puddle of thick, pasty material that reeked of decay and mold. But he wasn't standing. Trey realized he was sinking into the rancid mess. He desperately glanced toward Heather, who seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Heather!" he called.

Hearing her name in such a desperate tone snapped Heather from the unconscious curtain that had befallen her. She lifted her eyes to an unbelievable sight. The floor was swallowing Trey!

Her eyes widened and she attempted to move forward, but felt a sharp pain in her leg. Heather gritted her teeth and bared standing on it. She began to limp toward Trey, who was now up to his waist in the muck.

Before she could get to the door, the malevolent invisible force slammed the door, separating them.

"No!" she screamed. Heather fell against the door and tried to yank it open, but the doorknob wouldn't turn. "Trey! Michael!" she beat on the door but heard no reply.

On the other side of the door, Trey struggled in the mush. His breath came in short spurts which told him that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Vertigo overtook him as his torso fell forward, lodging him deeper in the liquid. He closed his eyes realizing that he couldn't escape. When the thick liquid covered his face, he held his breath, wondering how much longer he would live.

Heather's screams faded to a whisper then there was nothing.

II.

Christine Mitchell sat up with a start. She expected to be home, snuggled underneath her childhood blanket with her door slightly ajar, her curtains dancing in the night breeze coming through the window, the moonlight barely casting its light into the room.

Instead, she found herself on a lumpy mattress—the door, a heavy iron entrance with a barred window. The room, windowless and cold, a harsh white light shining from somewhere above.

Where am I? What happened?

Then she remembered. The painter, Greg Wallace had attacked her. She had easily usurped him, but there was something else. Yes, something else was in the room—something utterly wrong and evil. Then everything went dark.

And now, she was here, wherever that was. Christine rubbed her neck and winced at how tight it was. She felt her belt. Her taser was still there and she found a few pain relievers in her pocket that Michael had given her. She smoothed back her brown locks and took a composing breath.

Christine slipped off the bed and approached the door. She first pressed her ear against it, hoping to hear something that would let her know someone else was there with her. But she caught no sounds of breathing or shuffling feet on the other side of the door. Christine then pushed against the door, but it wouldn't move.

Of course it's locked, she sourly thought. Not that she really expected it to be open, but it would have been nice.

Now, she started asking herself the important question, why had she been taken away from the rest? It didn't make sense to her. She was no different from them, and it was mere coincidence that she and Sean were going to Silent Hill, wasn't it? Christine had the uneasy feeling that there was much more to the reason for her being in Silent Hill. To find out may mean to face something that she wasn't ready for.

Christine pushed the doubts to the back of her mind. There was no time now to ponder over something that she couldn't help, at least not now. She resolved to figure out a way to get out of the cell. Then, she was sure the rest would take care of itself.

She sat back on the bed and took a deep breath. Christine then stood and surveyed the room again. There must have been something she was missing. Then it hit her. There was always something under the bed.

Christine dropped to her knees and searched. There was only about a foot of space between the floor and the bed frame, but like she thought there was something scrawled on the wall near the corner. But it was too dim for her to make out any of the words.

She stood and tried to move the bed, but it was near impossible. The metal frame was much heavier than it looked.

"I need a light," she said aloud. She rifled through the metal cabinet opposite the bed. Moving aside syringes, gauze, and other equipment, Christine figured she was in some kind of hospital. But before she could ponder on it anymore, her fingers brushed against something small, slender, and hard. A flashlight.

Christine tested it and it worked. She then dropped back to her knees and shone the light into the corner.

Code to the doctor's other office: 9830.

Christine frowned. She was glad that someone thought of writing down the code to the doctor's office, but it didn't help her if she couldn't get out of the room itself. She sat back on the bed and took a moment to think. There was something she was missing. Christine wouldn't accept the fact that there was no way out of the room.

Even when she was younger, her father taught her to never give up, no matter the odds. And for some reason, it stuck with her every day of her life. Even now, despite everything that had happened, Christine wouldn't simply give up. She would escape, find her friends, and then discover what was behind all of this.

Christine glanced at the floor and noticed scratches beside the metal cabinet, as if it had been dragged a foot to the left. If it had been moved before then maybe she could move it again. She squeezed herself between the cabinet and the wall. Bracing herself, Christine pushed against the cabinet. At first, it wouldn't move. But after a few tries, it noisily slid a few inches, a foot, then stopped at a foot and a few more inches.

A big hole into the next room had been covered by the cabinet. Without a second thought, Christine slipped into the hole, hoping the noise of the cabinet hadn't drawn anyone's attention. But when she entered the next room, she was taken aback by where she ended up.

III.

Michael continued to slide down the length of the corridor until he found himself flying through the air over a seemingly bottomless pit. He wanted to be afraid of both the height and the invisible force dropping him, but he hit a wall before any of that could even register. He glanced down and he immediately regretted it. The darkness hungered for him and Michael knew he was at the mercy of whatever held him suspended in the air.

Suddenly, the force rolled him to the right several times then tossed him through a doorway. He pitched forward and flipped once before hitting the floor. He hit the floor awkwardly though and darkness began to creep in from the corners of his eyes. He only caught a slight glimpse of someone standing on the other side of the room.

As he fell unconscious, Michael caught a glimpse of the figure moving toward him. The most distinguishing feature was the man's eyes, olive with orange specks. And then there was his dirty face, halfway covered by a face mask. And then the light blue scrubs? Was he a doctor? Something seemed wrong with him, but before Michael could think on it anymore, he blacked out.

Michael felt like he was floating in a sea of darkness. There was no up or down, left or right, forward or backward. Then suddenly he was in a padded room, outfitted with a straitjacket.

What the hell? What am I doing here?

He meant to talk aloud, but Michael found he couldn't move his mouth. He wiggled his lower face, trying to catch a glance of his lips. But he had no lips. Michael's mouth didn't exist. Instead, his lower face was simply a smooth surface from his nose to his chin, as if his mouth had never existed.

He made grunting noises in his throat, which alarmed him even more. He could feel his tongue sliding back and forth against the inside of where his mouth should have been. Then, the doctor appeared.

It was the same man he had gotten a glimpse of before he had fallen unconscious, but what was he doing? How did Michael get here? What was going on?

The doctor grinned malevolently, "It's time for your surgery." He pulled a large saw from behind his back. "Why don't we start with an amputation?"

Michael tried to struggle, but the doctor grabbed the top of his head hard. Michael felt the jagged teeth begin to dig into his flesh, then eat through his throat.

He suddenly jerked to a sitting position, fully awake and aware. He was still dressed in jeans, brown boots, and a white, long-sleeved button down shirt with a Polo sweater that partially zipped up in the front and his Nike backpack was still on his back. He felt his throat. Still intact. Then felt his mouth. Still there.

He began to relax until he saw the doctor across the room, studying something familiar. Michael felt his backpack and noticed something was missing. It was the case with the weird parasite in it. The doctor had stolen it. Not that Michael was that appalled. The parasite was creepy and he only took it because Heather insisted. But it was the principal of the matter: the doctor went into his bag while he was knocked out and taken it without permission. And Michael wasn't having that bullshit. Not today.

"Who the hell are you?" Michael shot.

The doctor continued to study the parasite then closed the small chest. He slowly turned toward Michael then regarded him with disdain, as if he was appalled that the young man had even spoken to him. He stared as Michael rose to his feet then took a step toward him.

"You stole that from me," he accused. Michael stopped himself from immediately asking for it back. Did he really want the thing? Then again, it was probably better in his hands than the creepy doctor. "Give it back."

"It doesn't belong to you. You don't even understand it."

His voice reminded Michael of some sinister snake character from some of those popular movie-cartoons—raspy, cold, calculating, and pointed.

"Well, you can explain it while you give it back," Michael didn't want to pull his gun, which he unbelievably still had, but the doctor seemed dangerous.

"This will be the embryo of our new god. It's useless in your hands."

Michael pulled out his gun, "You're one of these crazy people like Father Tom and that weird guy. You're not taking that thing." He didn't really want to shoot the doctor, but then again, Michael didn't see himself hesitating if the doctor even breathed wrong.

Killian regarded him with mock alarm then turned away towards the door.

He's going to take that thing and who knows what he was going to do with it. If Trey was right about the whole parasite thing then he's going to use it on someone, Michael thought. Without hesitation, Michael fired.

Killian observed the jagged, smoking rip in the wall only inches from his head.

"Next time, I won't miss," Michael warned.

Killian turned, a flash of amusement in his strange eyes. "You don't even know what's going on here, do you?"

"No more talking. Just give me the box and walk away."

"Our lord plans to remake this desolate existence you call life. Everything will be reborn in his image and you can't stop it."

"Have it your way," Michael shot him in the leg. He expected the doctor to howl in pain, crumple over, and drop the box. Michael would simply grab it and be on his way, but things didn't happen like he imagined. In fact, it took an uncertain turn for the worse.

IV.

Heather Mason slumped against the door. She was tired. She didn't know how long she had been awake, the last time she ate, even the last time she went to the bathroom. Not only that, but she was emotionally drained. The death and apparent resurrection of her father, Claudia, Douglas, and now being separated from the only friends she had found throughout this mess. She didn't know how much more she could take.

No, she could take more. She had to. If not for herself, then for her father. For Michael. For Trey. For Christine. Heather took a deep breath and composed herself.

The first thing I have to do is get out of this damn room.

Heather stood and that's when she noticed the unusually large mirror which practically took up the entire wall. She then remembered her last incident with a mirror. Heather was almost killed by the unreal attack. Luckily, she escaped the room before the snake-like veins totally enveloped the room.

And now here she was, in another room with a huge mirror. Something told her this wouldn't turn out good.

The next first thing Heather noticed a white object hanging off the back of a chair. Upon closer inspection, Heather found that the white object was actually a vest hung on the back of a chair. But not just any vest. Her vest.

"How did that get here?" she wondered as she neared it. She picked it up slowly and suspiciously. Examining it, she realized that it was indeed hers, but wondered why it was here.

There was nothing wrong with it. No strange markings, no inexplicable blood stains, or anything else out of place. She slipped the vest back on, unsure why she felt such a sense of relief from something familiar.

Heather surveyed the room. It was then that Heather noticed the amount of covered objects in the room. Paintings. They probably were paintings covered to protect them from dust and exposure. The larger covered paintings were propped against the walls while the smaller ones sat atop the furniture.

She stepped carefully around the paintings, avoiding looking at them at all. More than likely, they were just strange depictions of torture, pain, and death. And Heather already had her fill of all that and then some.

Heather glanced over the room again, her back to the door and part of the mirror. Suddenly, Heather felt like someone else was in the room and staring at her. She turned to find that someone else was definitely in the room. The other woman stood still with her arms slack at her sides and intense stare. But she wore a police uniform, which threw Heather off. She also noticed that the mirror had disappeared. Only a wall now existed in place of the large mirror. Had she just imagined the mirror?

"I didn't know anyone else was in here," she uncertainly said. Surely, she would have seen the woman, but maybe she was much more tired than she thought. "Are you a cop?"

"Yes," the woman replied.

Heather was only slightly relieved. There was something strange and familiar about this woman. "Look, there's something weird going on here and I got locked in this room. Do you know another way out?"

"I'm not sure," the policewoman replied, much more naturally this time.

"Well, I'm Heather Mason and I got separated from my friends."

"I know. I'm Cybil Bennett." Then Cybil added, "Silent Hill has no more use for you. And I'm here to make sure you interfere no more."

"What did you say?" Heather asked. "Did you just threaten me?"

Cybil only lifted a corner of her mouth in a half-smile in response.

She didn't look like much of a threat, not like the other monsters of Silent Hill. Cybil stood an inch or two shorter than Trey, with a short haircut—kind of stylish actually. Her delicate face didn't really match the command in her voice, but her steel blue eyes were piercing, searching, and focused. It was her eyes that told Heather that this woman was indeed dangerous. Heather took a step back, every alarm in her mind suddenly going off.

Heather's suspicion of Cybil Bennett had planted its seed and grown some time before this confrontation. It began with the diary they found after Christine confronted the reincarnated version of her boyfriend, Sean Bennett. Christine found that Cybil did indeed try to kill her to keep her and Sean from coming to Silent Hill. Killing someone to keep them from doing anything was crazy in Heather's mind, and so it was then that she concluded the woman was slightly off. Yet, she didn't say anything.

Now, hearing Cybil's threat and seeing the dangerous way her eyes studied Heather only confirmed what she thought: Cybil is crazy.

"Cybil Bennett. My dad told me that you helped him save me from this place before. I don't know what happened to you, but you're not going to lay a finger on me," Heather kept her eyes and gun fixated on Cybil hoping that the woman would step back.

Cybil took a step forward and her entire image changed to a hideous creature that only slightly resembled Cybil. The blond hair became gray wisps of limp hair, her fair complexion became covered with abrasions and legions with pus oozing out, her outfit disappeared leaving her naked body exposed, her hands and feet extended into bony claws. However, in the next step, the image of Cybil returned.

"You're a monster," Heather said.

"A servant of Samael," she replied.

Cybil moved much too quickly for Heather to react. Cybil was in her face and Heather found herself backhanded and sliding across the floor. She came to rest against one of the covered paintings.

The corner of Cybil's mouth angled up in a hateful smile as she kicked Heather in the stomach. She slid across the floor into an end table, which shattered around Heather.

Heather tried to stand, but Cybil was upon her. She grabbed Heather's wrist and yanked her upward then flung her across the room. The door abruptly stopped her flight and she fell to the floor. Heather didn't know where the pain started from, but it ebbed throughout her body and her breath came in short gasps.

"Mother of god? You're weak and pathetic, Alessa. Dahlia was a selfish fool to think she had the sole right to resurrect Samael. You're nothing but a waste of time!"

Heather suddenly snapped her head towards Cybil. Her eyes shone an angry red. "Stay away from me!"

Cybil was thrown backwards against one of the paintings and the cover slid off. Cybil turned to find that the painting wasn't a painting at all, but a covered mirror. Staring at her reflection, Cybil saw the real her—the monster. Cybil screamed and threw the tarp back over the mirror.

Heather's eyes returned to normal and she felt drained. What had she done? Did she still have the power that she had assumed died along with Alessa? But then again, it couldn't be completely gone because she was Alessa. She didn't have time to ponder over it now though.

"I'll kill you for that!" Cybil seethed.

Heather saw Cybil's reaction at her reflection. Maybe mirrors were under all these covers, but how did it relate to Cybil?

Cybil dashed toward her and Heather reached for a mirror. She lifted it and threw off the cover, angling it towards Cybil. But it slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor. A painful wail escaped from Cybil as her hands shot to her face.

Heather watched as Cybil's hands slipped from her face. Spiderweb cracks crept across the left side of Cybil's face. Heather quickly fired her gun, completely shattering the left side of her face.

The image of Cybil was nothing more than some kind of outer shell. It broke off and left behind jagged pieces of her face, but the real monster was revealed underneath.

Heather quickly deduced that was the way to defeat her—break the mirrors then use the delay to fire at her cracked portions until she revealed the real monster. But what then? Heather figured she would deal with that when the time came.

Cybil rushed at her, but Heather quickly dipped to the side and grabbed another mirror, smashing it upon the ground. Again, Cybil wailed in immense pain as Heather fired another shot. This went on for another few minutes with Heather hit by Cybil only twice. At last, the image of Cybil was completely shattered and only the monster remained. Now, Heather realized that she was in serious trouble.

"You have revealed my true form. But this will be the end of you."

Heather backed against the wall and felt a power surge through her. "No, your tricks are nothing. You're finished." Heather simply touched the wall and the large mirror reappeared. She leaped to the side as the monster Cybil caught a full glimpse of its own reflection.

"No!" it groaned.

Heather then whipped around and fired her gun, completely shattering the mirror.

The monster was thrown against the wall, and the glass shards gravitated toward Cybil and embedded themselves into her thick flesh. Thick, dark blood oozed from her wounds and pooled on the floor.

Heather felt even weaker than before, but a sense of relief accompanied it. She was safe, and Cybil was done for. It was over.

Heather slumped against the mirror and let her arms hang limply at her sides. She closed her eyes, hoping that she would hear a click of the lock, the opening of a secret passage, or some other sound urging Heather closer to Samael.

But instead, when Heather opened her eyes, she stared into the face of the monster Cybil. Before she could react, the monster slammed her against the mirror then slapped her.

The gun slid across the floor and came to a rest too far for Heather to reach. She looked up to find the glass-ridden monster hovering over her. The monster leaned toward her, ready to enact its horrid revenge.

V.

When Trey Harrison awoke, he couldn't believe where he had ended up. The valet area next to the door, two twin-sized beds, two identical desks, three-shelf bookcase, two reading chairs, large panel window, and closet. It was definitely one of the college dorm rooms. But he couldn't figure out how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was being swallowed by thick muck.

He looked at the ceiling for some kind of clue, but only saw a solid ceiling and a light fixture. Trey felt his body, but he didn't feel wet or have any residue left from the pit. It was as if he had simply woken up from a nap. But Trey knew better. The unnerving silence all around and strange message scrawled on the wall told him that he wasn't out of danger just yet.

I'M DEAD.

That's all it said, but it sent a shiver up Trey's spine. Who did the message refer to? And was it meant for Trey or someone else? Before he could figure out either question, he heard a noise from the closet. It was a muffled noise, as if something was trying to be quiet but had accidentally bumped something.

Trey aimed his crossbow at the closet and whispered, "Who's there?"

Like someone's going to answer, dummy, he thought to himself.

The door creaked open far enough to arouse curiosity, but not far enough for any light to expose if something was in there. Trey paused for a moment, unsure of what to make of the situation. Someone could be on the other side of the door just as scared, unsure if Trey was a friend or foe. Or it could be some otherworldly monstrosity luring Trey into its clutches. Trey held his breath, hoping it was the first option.

He thought about calling out again, but it was probably useless. Instead, Trey slowly made his way around the bed toward the closet. He kept his crossbow aimed as he neared the closet. Trey's palms were wet with perspiration and his breathing had become shallow. Only a little closer.

Trey swore the room shrank around him and that the already dim light grew darker. His body seemed heavier too. Trey didn't think he would be able to react in time if something leapt at him. And there wasn't much space between the bed and the wall for Trey to maneuver either.

I'm doomed, was Trey's final conclusion. Still he pressed on, the power of curiosity outweighing the sense of pending danger.

Trey opened the closet with one foot. As the dim light penetrated the darkness and his eyes focused, Trey's blood ran cold and his breath caught in his throat.

A body dangled from above. No hands. Blood pooled at the bottom of the closet and splattered all over. Face locked in a permanent scream. The skin withered and dry. The eyes rolled back exposing nothing but the whites. A rotten, thick stench seeped from the body.

Trey couldn't hold it any longer. He threw up.

Trey ran to the sink and braced himself on the counter, still gagging and breathing hard. He splashed the cold water on his face and drank a few sips. The rancid taste wouldn't completely disappear no matter how many times Trey swished tap water around in his mouth. He turned it off and stared at his reflection in the mirror. A pale, haggardly face stared back at him.

He composed himself then turned back to the body. Trey hoped that he had imagined such a horrid scene. He hoped that it would be gone when he looked again, but the body still dangled there.

Trey grabbed the closet door and shut it tightly. He couldn't imagine what had killed the dead person or the kind of pain they had been in before dying. Trey hoped that he didn't know the individual. It would be less painful and easier to push out of his mind.

Trey crossed the room to the desk. There must be a reason why he ended up in this room. Heather said that they would end up in strange places so there must be something here. Trey glanced over the desk, but didn't see anything that caught his eye. Until he saw a scrap of paper protruding from one of the drawers. He pulled it out and read it.

It was a receipt. Unimportant except the name at the bottom: Michael McNeal. Now it made sense. This was Michael's dorm room. Michael had told them earlier of his harsh introduction to Silent Hill right here at the college. But he didn't find his roommate. Maybe it was better that he hadn't.

Now Trey had to figure out why he was here of all places. Was there something that Michael missed the first time around? Or was there something more to Michael's involvement in Silent Hill.

Trey suddenly felt as if there was more to all of them. Something that connected them to Silent Hill. And he was meant to find out Michael's connection.

A tattered journal partially protruding from under one of the chairs caught his eye. He picked it up and thumbed through it without really realizing it until he stopped on an entry from five years ago.

_I can't believe we solved the mystery of Windlenot Museum. It was dangerous with the demons (Rich called them Ixupi—what a dumb name) and all those puzzles. I feel like the three of us, Rich, Carl, and I were meant to meet there that night because by ourselves, we never would have made it. I'm just glad to leave it all behind and go across the country to college. Maybe everything will go smoothly there._

Trey flipped toward the back of the journal and stopped.

_I'm sure that the students, my roommate included, are using that drug, White Claudia. I confronted him about it, but he blew me off and said it wasn't any of my business. That was the first time we had really disagreed about anything—he was mostly an easygoing guy. I knew then that he was involved somehow and if he was, then he may be involved with this mystery cult that everyone acts like doesn't exist. I decided to go to one of the parties Felicia was throwing. Ha! Here I am playing investigator again—sticking my nose where I shouldn't. Oh well..._

So this explained why Michael was much more composed than a normal person would be in this type of situation. This was the last entry, dated yesterday. That party was the key to Michael getting to Silent Hill, but did something happen there?

Trey put the journal back on the desk and inspected the room once more. Nothing else stood out.

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and open, but when Trey walked through it, he didn't end up in the dormitory hallway but walked into a large room. Cups, napkins, plates, and pieces of snacks were strewn about. A poster to the left advertised Felicia's party. This must have been it. This would have been the last place Michael would have been.

Trey stepped on a book. When he looked down, it was another journal.

I didn't realize so many people kept journals then just left them any and everywhere for anyone to read. Weirdos. Still, he couldn't complain too much. The journals so far had been plenty helpful in piecing this whole mess together.

Before he could read it, something moved in the back of the room. Trey stuck the journal in his pants against the small of his back and drew his crossbow. He aimed toward the noise and smirked to himself.

It was no doubt a monster—its stubby legs, jagged opening for a mouth, and featureless upper body all screamed monster. Its upper torso looked like it was enclosed in a thick layer of skin and it struggled underneath that skin to free its arms and head. Trey winced at the sheer grotesque nature of the monster then remembered that the people in the town willingly let themselves be converted. They weren't human anymore and never would be again.

He thought it would be easy, but another shambled from the back of the room. Then two more came into view. Two more from the left and right. Three more from the back of the room. Another from the far left corner. Two adjoined from the right corner. Then one was right behind him. He was surrounded.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to take out all the monsters but he smiled and said to them, "This is about to get real ugly." He aimed and squeezed the trigger.

Notes:

Cybil's mysterious appearance will be further explained in Silent Hill: Harry Mason, Chapter 8.

Dr. Killian is the same doctor that attacked Tina Grey in Silent Hill: Harry Mason, Chapter 3.

Trey immediately recognized the room since he and Michael McNeal attend the same college and both live in the dorms.

Michael's roommate, Brent, suffered a horrible death, but Michael never found the body. This all occurred in Chapter 1—Unknown Horror.

The journal Trey found refers to The Story of Windlenot Museum, written by Richard B. Sampson Jr. and posted here on This is also the incident that Michael recalled when he solved the clock puzzle in Chapter 20—Moving On.

Shortey: Glad you liked Christine's fight scene. She has had some inklings of being a tough girl though in some of the earlier chapters, but here is where she really came out of her shell. We'll have to see if all of our heroes make it through their adventure alive. Of course, there is already a sequel in the planning phase, so some of them are bound to make it.

Crazyb1tch85: Henry and Tina aren't exactly done with little Sara. Check out the other story for their next confrontation with her. If you thought this one was a bit spooky, the next will definitely have you on the edge of your seat. I'm glad you liked Christine's scene. I figured I had to do something to make up for her foolish "oh-I'm-going-to-go-off-and-investigate-the-scary-house-alone-and-unarmed" mistake. Hopefully, as Tina and Henry investigate, they will find out exactly why Christine was targeted as the new vessel. Glad you like the thought blurbs I put in there for Michael. If I were in the situation, I would probably be thinking about the same things. Yes, there are lots of cliffhangers and with this chapter, hopefully, some questions have been answered. Let me know what you think!

Rodarian: Yeah, Pierce Bronson is actually a good choice for Harry age-wise—and maybe Ryan Reynolds could be Henry Townsend then. As you see from this chapter, things have definitely intensified for the teens—they're in more danger now than ever and it's only bound to get worse. Hey, what base do you live by?

Fallen Angel-2009: I'm sorry to hear that things aren't going well—good luck with whatever you're going through. As far as the story goes, hope you like where this chapter took Heather and the others. As you see, they're real close to seeing each other. Maybe next chapter...

Demo the Bounding Jackalope: Hopefully, the scary factor on the story just went up a notch with this chapter. Let me know what you think.


	22. The Fog Clears

I.

_This is the orphanage!_

Christine wasn't quite sure how she knew it, but she instantly recognized the upstairs bedroom as one in Wish House. Two sets of bunk beds lined two walls with two identical desks positioned at the foot of the beds. Dreary curtains blocked out any light that might come in through the windows and the bare floor creaked under Christine's weight.

Christine turned to look at the hole she had just come from. But it wasn't there anymore. Just a solid wall.

_But how? Am I going crazy? Wasn't I just in a prison of some kind?_

Everything whirled and for a moment, Christine thought she would faint. Everything was happening too fast. She just needed to get herself together. A soft voice cut through her vertigo.

"Christine?"

She hadn't seen the young girl standing by the door earlier, but now she was there. A young girl dressed in overalls, clinging to a teddy bear. She looked quite pale and her disheveled hair fell about her face. The girl's clothes were soiled. In this place, there was no telling what the girl had been through.

"Are you hurt? Where did you come from? Where are your parents? Are you wandering around here alone?" The questions rushed out of Christine in part because of concern for the girl, but she was comforted by having someone to ask those questions to.

Christine approached the girl but stopped. Something kept nagging at the back of her mind, like there was something that she should know or remember. But upon closer inspection, something seemed not quite right about the girl. But she was just a little girl wasn't she?

The Christine realized something and asked, "Wait, how did you know my name?"

"You don't know mine?" the girl replied. There was something hollow and mysterious in her voice.

"Sara?" Christine whispered. She didn't know where the name had come from or how she even knew this girl, yet the longer she looked the more Sara looked like someone from a long time ago.

Christine rubbed her temples, the sense of bewilderment growing with each passing second. Memories were fighting to surface, but Christine wouldn't let them. She didn't want to remember. She couldn't remember.

She retreated from the girl, crossing the room between the two sets of bunk beds. She noticed a picture lying on the lower bed to the right. Looking at it, her blood suddenly ran cold. The little girl, Sara, was in the picture along with another girl. They looked similar, maybe only a year apart. Brown hair, toothy smile, tanned complexion. The only difference was the other girl had amazingly green eyes, jade to be exact. Regardless, there was no way that these girls couldn't be related.

But the other girl in the picture, Christine had no doubt who it was. It was her. How? It was the orphanage. They were given to the orphanage by their parents. Their parents only cared about the damn resurrection, whatever that was. They left them to be further tortured and brainwashed by the sick priests and crazed sisters. Oh, the things they endured. It was a wonder that they didn't die.

Christine snapped back realizing she had grasped the framed picture so tightly she had cracked the glass. Why was she so angry? Where had those thoughts come from? But Christine knew that they were hers and hers alone. But she couldn't remember everything. How did she escape? Why didn't she remember any of this before? And if this girl was Sara, why hadn't she aged since this picture?

Sara stepped forward, drawing Christine's attention back to her. "I knew that you would come back. Now, you can stay with me and you don't ever have to leave again."

II.

Trey wiped the thick red blood from his cheek and surveyed the room. The monsters that had ganged up on him now lie scattered about. Some were utterly still, while others shook erratically before imminent death.

_I am such a bad ass_, Trey mused. He couldn't help but feel tough after taking out a small army of monsters that wanted nothing more than to snack on his bones or whatever these monsters did to their victims.

There were some splatters of blood on his jeans and sneakers, but it wasn't his. He was unharmed besides the ebbing pain in his left arm. He glanced at it and noticed a spot of crimson seeping through the gauze. He would have to get it looked at if they ever got out of here alive.

Trey scanned the room one more time for any other monsters waiting to spring out of the darkness but he was disappointed. None remained. He remembered the journal he had picked up. Back in his hands he flipped open to the only written on page.

_Brent told me about that McNeal kid's questions. He might turn us in and we can't have that. Brent dropped a tablet of White Claudia in his drink. Let's see what the nosy bastard does once he's one of us._

_The ceremony went awfully. That nosy kid disrupted it. Apparently, the drug had an adverse effect. He was supposed to be paralyzed. We forced him to watch the ceremony. Suddenly, he panicked and started raving about demons and crap like that. Then he tried to attack us. But then he suddenly passed out. Good thing. We told Brent to take him back to their room and find out if he planned to tell what he saw. If he did then he would have to experience an unfortunate accident._

_Felicia said there was a drug to counteract White Claudia. Using the drug as the primary ingredient, she added a strange green, blue, and red herb to the mixture along with the medicine. She said it would stop the pain for a first time user and repress the withdrawal symptoms, thus keeping people from being addicted. Why would she even think of nullifying the effects of White Claudia? She doesn't understand, but by the end of the night, she won't need to. Anyways, I put the stuff in the table by the door._

_She suggested using it on that kid, but I'd rather see him suffer._

Trey closed the book and quickly found the table. The drawer was indeed locked and there didn't seem to be a way to pry it open.

He wondered where a good hiding place for a key would be. He checked the undersurface of the table, then the top of another table lined with bottles of alcohol, under the couch, and finally behind the curtains. No luck.

Trey ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and exhaled loudly. Where the hell was the stupid key? Whoever wrote the diary didn't mention hiding it, so maybe he took it back to his own room. There was no way Trey would find it then—he didn't even know who wrote the diary.

_Just take it easy for a minute. There's got to be something here. I'm simply missing it._

Trey exhaled loudly once again and inspected the room from next to the table. The corner of a pink book protruded from underneath the couch. Surely, it was something important. He stepped over one of the monsters and grabbed the book. He flipped to the last entry and read.

_I got the formula from the hospital. I definitely think that creepy Dr. Killian is strung out on PTV, a stronger derivative of White Claudia. Since its appearance about twenty years ago, several patients have been brought in suffered from an overdose. Dr. Owens created the formula because of the way the drug ravaged the body. A quick acting agent could save someone's life no matter what stage they were at in their withdrawal._

_I think Killian fired Dr. Owens because he created it, but he continued to make it and passed a sample to me when I told him of my suspicions of my boyfriend using it. He gave me a copious amount of the liquid form, which is the fastest acting form of the agent. He also gave me the instructions on how to create it. It's pretty easy too._

_Anyways, I created some and tested it and it works just like Dr. Owens's. I am so proud of myself. I tried to give it to that jerk Corey at the party. He thought I didn't see him throw it in the drawer. I went over and locked it and put the key around my neck. I don't trust a lot of the people that showed up to this party. I'm sure they use White Claudia and they're mixed up with that rumored cult. I'm going to kick all them out in a few._

_I'm concerned about Michael McNeal though. Again, I'm sure I saw Brent, his trifling roommate, throw a White Claudia tablet in his drink. I confronted Brent, but he said it was a harmless joke and not to worry so much. If it is his first time, it would probably paralyze him until it wore off. And chances are, he won't even remember the "joke" since it directly affects the amygdala, hippocampus, and thalamus—three areas of the brain responsible for memory. It also acts on the cerebellum, responsible for movement, and other parts of the thalamus, thus the hallucinations. Whoops, getting off on a tangent here!_

_Anyways, I don't trust Brent. Felicia Drake_

Trey felt uneasy. Felicia was at the party and she had the key. But she didn't use White Claudia and wasn't one of the cult members, which meant that she didn't let herself be changed into one of the horrible monsters he had just taken out. So where was she?

Trey walked to the back of the room and saw where they're ceremony had taken place. They had drawn a strange symbol on the ground.

A circle was on the outside and another was drawn inside, with about an inch or two less in diameter. Three other smaller circles where drawn in the middle of the second circle, one on the top and two on the bottom. A strange depiction of an eye stared up from the top in the space between the two outside circles. A scale was drawn at the nine o'clock spot and two other symbols Trey couldn't distinguish at the three o'clock and six o'clock points. Inside, other symbols populated the space between the smaller circles, all of them strange but equally creepy. There were smaller symbols along the edge of the large, outside circle. Though the ceremony had been over for some time, the entire symbol glowed scarlet red.

He didn't know what to male of it though. There was something inherently evil about the symbol and it being placed here. More so than any monster or strange journal he found.

Trey turned to the left and spied a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out and read the contents.

_The symbol commonly used in the ritual represents The Halo of the Sun. The outer two circles are charity and resurrection and the three inner circles represent past, present, and future. Usually, it is drawn in red. Black or other dark colors are acceptable as well, but blue is strictly forbidden as it places a curse on the deity being honored with the symbol._

At least he knew what it was. But knowing only made it seem that much more forbidden and wrong. He planned to put as much distance between him and the eerie symbol. But as he turned away, he stopped to study what looked like blood stemming from outside the circle. Someone had splattered it all around the symbol and let it trail off down the hallway to a door only slightly ajar.

Light, probably from candles, flickered through the crack as if a breeze had suddenly disturbed their monotonous burn.

He raised his crossbow and approached the door slowly. Trey followed the blood all the way up to the door and stopped. He already knew that trails of blood led to nothing good.

Pushing the door with his foot, Trey stepped in the bathroom and immediately knew something was horribly wrong. Black candles, thick and melted on the counter, floor, selves, and any other horizontal surface they could find. The trail of blood continued into the bathroom and stopped at the edge of the tub. But the shower curtain was closed.

_Trey, don't go back there. You don't want to see what's back there that bad_, he told himself. He had trouble swallowing and his mouth had gone dry. Fear. It was fear and something else. The closer he got, the thicker the air became. Something reeked and it was emanated from the tub. What the hell was in there?

His stomach tightened and he began to perspire. Was it just hot in the bathroom because of the candles?

Though every alarm in his mind had gone off and his body even rebelled against him, Trey cautiously continued forward. Maybe there was just another monster lying in wait. That, he could deal with. In fact, he hoped that was all that hid behind the curtain.

He grasped the cloth curtain in his left hand and paused. Did he really want to do this? Yes, he had to. Everything he saw from the beginning to the end, he was meant to see. It was meant to be burned into his mind, and whatever he found here was no different.

_Dammit, just throw it open!_

The curtain snapped back and Trey immediately threw up.

Between heaves, he realized what had happened to Felicia Drake and where the blood had come from. The girl now lay in a knee deep pool of her own blood. The same symbol in the room had been scratched into her chest and stomach area. Blond hair was caked with dried blood, matted to her face, neck, and shoulders. Her fair, smooth skin was now riddled with cuts and abrasions all over her naked body. Her vibrant, violet eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling—she was alive throughout the whole ordeal. They had tortured her and then killed her.

They killed her and made him watch, Trey suddenly realized, which only made him more nauseous. Michael was paralyzed by the drug. Then they probably attacked Felicia when she tried to throw them out. They made him watch as they tore at her clothes and cut her. Trey didn't want to think about the situation anymore

He braved another glance at Felicia, and noticed her clenched fist resting on the side of the tub, as if with her lest energy, she placed it there. Was she holding something? He didn't want to touch her at all, but he still moved closer and pried her hand open. There it was. The key to the drawer.

Trey quickly departed the bathroom, still dazed from the scene. His mind raced with questions but he would never know the answers. No one would ever be able to make him understand the logic and fervor of these cult members. He didn't want to understand, he just wanted to make them pay for what they had done.

The drawer unlocked with a soft click and slid open easily. Sure enough, a container of the green liquid rolled to the front of the drawer. It was Felicia's agent. Trey wished she could see how important her formula would become in the near future.

He began to tuck the liquid away in his belt but found a medical bag in the back of the drawer. He took it and put the liquid in the bag. Then Trey remembered reading that Dr. Killian was probably addicted to White Claudia or PTV. Maybe all these crazed people they happened upon were intoxicated with the drug. Trey had an idea.

After about ten minutes, Trey was ready to move on.

There was no mention of a time limit on the symptoms, but Trey was sure that Michael was experiencing some of those withdrawal symptoms, whatever they were. He knew he had to get the medicine to him and fast. All he could hope was that the next door he opened would lead him to Michael.

Trey slowly opened the door and stepped into the unknown.

III.

Heather pressed herself against the cold metal wall, wishing it would swallow her just like the floor had swallowed Trey. But she could go no further and the metal stood fast, holding her to her gruesome fate.

Where was her mysterious power now? She had unknowingly tapped into it earlier in the battle, but now she couldn't even muster the strength to strike the monster. This wasn't the way she imagined dying, not at the hands of some creepy monster in a cursed world. And she never got to see her father, if he truly was alive.

The monster Cybil breathed hard with anticipation. "I'll make your suffering legendary," it grinned.  
Heather clenched her eyes shut, awaiting for the first rupture of pain but it never came. Actually, Heather screamed when she heard the shattering glass and the barrage of bullets sail through the air. They found their mark with deadly accuracy. The bullets hit the monster with several wet thuds. It danced back and forth from the force of the bullets at such a close range. Then it was over.

The monster teetered for a moment then gave Heather a final glance. No longer able to hold itself up, it fell forward and moved no more.

Heather opened her eyes and saw the monster staring at her lifelessly. But where had the bullets come from? It was too many at once to be Michael, so who? She turned to the mirror noticing that one of the panels hadn't been broken. Only now, it wasn't a mirror, but more like a window into an adjacent room. And there stood three people holding smoking guns.

Heather managed to stand, despite still feeling weak and drained. She simply stared at the three people, waiting for them to disappear, but they remained simply staring back at her. Hot tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away, but sat incredibly still. If she was simply imagining the three people now in front of her, she didn't want to wake up. Not yet.

The man was the first to move through the window. He jogged a few paces and stopped in the center of the room, with an expression that told Heather he felt the same as she did. Confused, worried, relieved, and disbelief all at once.

"Heather?" Harry's voice, mixed with doubt and trepidation, came out hoarse. A longing hand reached for his daughter, as if she would quickly float away if he got too close.

She didn't reply, simply stared at Harry. The last time she though she would ever see him, was when she discovered his dead body in their apartment. Now, he stood in front of her, calling to her, with the relief of a father who thought his daughter was lost forever.

But what if it was another trick? She thought Cybil was real, but she turned out to be just another monster. Samael could be toying with her again, but it was his eyes. They showed compassion.

Heather said nothing, but simply stood and ran to her father and threw her arms around him. When she fell into his embrace, Heather knew he was real, not some figment of her imagination and certainly not another monstrosity created by Silent Hill. It was Harry Mason. He was her father and now, he was alive. She didn't care how, when, or where. She only cared that he was there with her.

"Dad," she whispered in his ear. She tried to keep from crying, but the tears fell silently.

In that instant, everything faded away. Nothing else mattered. The monsters, Silent Hill, Claudia, Killian, nothing. The whole world simply faded, leaving only Harry and Heather.

"I—I thought you were dead," Heather's buried her head in Harry's shoulder, her voice muffled and low.

"I thought I was too," Harry replied. He didn't want to burden Heather with everything he had been through, not at this point. He simply wanted to enjoy this reunion. Everything else could wait.

Douglas Cartland and Cybil Bennett stepped through the window as well, but stayed reverently silent.

Heather finally looked up and noticed that Douglas and Cybil had stepped into the room. She slipped out of Harry's embrace and frowned at Douglas. "I thought you were going to wait for me at the amusement park? I was going to get you when all this was over."

"You young kids think you can handle the world. Well, you can't. So here we are."

Heather walked to him and gave him a quick hug. "I'm glad you're safe," she said.

"As safe as I can be in this place. I wasn't as beat up as I thought I was."

Heather then turned to Cybil. She stared at the woman, not sure if she could fully trust her.

Before Heather could say anything, Cybil began to speak, "I thought it was all over, but I've only been a pawn so this day could occur. I know that you all have seen this," Cybil threw the journal on the floor, "But it was a lie constructed by that thing." Cybil motioned to the fallen monster. "I've lost my son, the most important person in my life. I couldn't bear to lose Christine too. If you can't trust me, I understand, but I will fight alongside you until the end."

Heather searched Cybil's face. Her expression was as pure as her words. She was no longer under the influence of Samael, but a woman hoping to save the last person she had left to care for.

Heather stepped to her and extended her hand, "Cybil, I trust you."

Cybil shook her hand strongly, establishing the beginning bond of trust.

"I still have to find Tina," Harry said.

"We met her and a guy named Henry in the house. They may have gotten trapped here too," Heather explained. "Henry and Tina told me how they helped you. My friends, Michael and Trey are still trapped out there."

"We won't leave anyone behind," Douglas resolved.

Heather took a position next to Harry as they took the lead back through the window then through the door. But rather ending up back in the hallway, they found themselves somewhere quite unexpected.

IV.

Michael McNeal knew when he was in over his head. His freshman year in college, he was overloaded: full class load, class council, gospel choir, and track. It was simply too much for him to handle at that point. He felt the same way now: the situation at the college, the deaths, the strange priest, Silent Hill, Maria, and now the doctor. The situation suddenly seemed impossible and hopeless. Could they really defeat some resurrected evil god with the power to change the world?

But he had to try. Even if he did only meet his death.

Michael held his posture, the gun now pointed at Killian's midsection. The doctor hadn't howled in pain or tumbled to the ground, but simply glanced at the wound as if it were a slight annoyance, nothing more.

"What will you do next?" the doctor calmly asked, which only annoyed Michael. The doctor was taunting him. He was somehow impervious to conventional attacks.

_He has a point, what am I going to do next?_

Michael found it difficult to swallow and the room suddenly became unbearably hot. Everything blurred. Michael blinked hard, hoping when he opened his eyes things would be normal, but it only got worse. Michael suddenly doubled over from the feeling of lightning tearing through his insides. "What have you done to me?"

Killian sneered, "You're one of us. Don't you feel enlightened?"

Michael didn't understand what was happening. He hadn't been mortally wounded or implanted with anything strange, had he? The parasite hadn't escaped from the chest and bore into his body, the butcher hadn't cut him open and implanted a strange monster, but maybe the doctor did something to him while he was unconscious.

"What have you done to me?" Michael seethed.

Killian looked down his nose at Michael and replied, "Though I would like to take credit for bringing you to your knees, I cannot. But I will relish the sight of you squirming like the vermin you are."

Michael grunted and toppled to the floor. It was getting difficult to breathe and everything was spinning. He managed to crawl to a table and use it to get to his feet, although he was quite shaky.

"I won't give you the satisfaction," Michael said and raised his gun. He fired, but his arm wasn't steady. The bullet sank into the ceiling.

"Though you have attempted to take my life, I, Dr. Killian, offer you salvation with this," Killian pulled a syringe out of his pocket. It was filled with an iridescent liquid.

"Stay away from me," Michael growled.

Killian chuckled. "The fragments of our lord burn through your veins, just like Henry Mason."

"Liar!"

"No, he isn't lying," Trey Harrison stepped through the door and slipped an arrow behind him to stop the door from completely closed. He smiled confidently and aimed his crossbow at Killian. "Now, you can leave here walking or in a body bag, it's your choice."

"Trey?" Michael croaked. Leave it to Trey to make a grand entrance, if not for the pain, Michael would have laughed, both from relief and from Trey's sheer audacity.

"I know you missed me, but don't get too sentimental, bud," he kept a watchful eye on Killian, sure that he was the doctor Felicia referred to in her journal.

Killian cocked his head with unhealthy curiosity and said, "Another one of my lord's toys, Trey Harrison. I cannot understand the interest my lord has taken in any of you wayward children, but my job is not to understand only to obey."

"You didn't give me back the box when I told you. You really suck at your job," Michael weakly retorted.

"This," Killian motioned to the syringe, "will ease your pain and gain you favor with Samael. You children know it as White Claudia. This is the same but in its purest and raw form."

Michael dismissed the doctor with a wild wave, "Keep that damn drug away from me."

"It's already in your system," Trey explained. "His cult goons slipped some White Claudia into your drink at the party. You're suffering from withdrawal."

"No," he sounded defeated and hurt.

"If you refuse to offer your body to our lord, I have nothing more to do here. You will still be of use to our lord even if you are dead, which actually suits me fine. We have what we need," Killian said.

"Is that all I was? A carrier for your damn parasite?" Michael choked out.

"Yes."

"You let that guy take the parasite thing? Mike, you're getting sloppy," Trey joked. He noticed thick, black blood oozing from a bullet wound in his leg. "You should've just shot the guy in the chest."

Michael almost smiled in spite of the situation. Leave it to Trey to keep his levity, but Michael knew that Trey had some kind of plan. Trey was just waiting for the right time to launch it. At least, that's what Michael hoped.

Killian dismissed Trey's implied threat, "Your worldly weapons can't hurt me. I've gained the favor of our lord and thus am impervious to your feeble attempts to subdue me."

Trey looked puzzled, "Umm—so what you're saying is...what?"

"Imbecile."

"I knew you'd resort to name-calling eventually," Trey said then shot the doctor in the other leg. Twice.

The arrows jutted out of Killian's leg at starkly different angles, yet the doctor took a step forward without even a slight limp. "And you don't listen. I will dance over your decrepit bodies as the hellhounds feast on your entrails."

"Wrong, doctor. And who writes your script anyways? Geez. Dancing while hellhounds eat our insides? You've spent too many nights studying the Stupidest Lines Bad Guys Use manual."

"Your quaint wit falls on deaf ears, fool."

"Well hear this. You know those arrows I shot into your leg? I took the liberty of dipping the arrow tips in the antidote. Unlike White Claudia, this antidote travels trough the bloodstream almost immediately, negating the effects of the drug. And right about now, you should be feeling the effects."

"Nice bluff, infidel, but I—" suddenly Killian doubled over and grasped his stomach. "You—you—" he stammered. Killian's orange eyes were wide with both surprise and pain.

"Save it, doc."

Killian spun, the chest pressed firmly to his abdomen, and bolted from the room. As he dashed out, another syringe fell from his pocket.

"Trey, forget about me, go after Killian. He's going to—"

Trey picked up the syringe and pulled alcohol and a swab out of the medical bag he found. "Yeah, you're the big bad hero. Just relax for a second. We'll get him soon enough. You need this antidote."

"I don't like needles," Michael weakly said.

Trey gave him a half-smile. "We've seen otherworldly monsters, crazed butchers, demented doctors, and eerie rooms and you complain about a little old needle?"

Michael managed a shrug, "We all have our thing, right?"

He sat on the floor while Trey prepared the needle. Michael immediately looked away as Trey pulled up his sleeve and swabbed his forearm.

"You know what you're doing, right?" Michael asked.

"Just keep believing that and you'll be fine," Trey replied.

To keep Michael's mind off the needle, Trey pieced together what he knew about Michael's situation.

"So here's what I've found out so far about you. You suspected several students used White Claudia. You knew about the cult, but you didn't know anything about them. You confronted your roommate, Brent, about the drug, but Brent denied using it, but then he told someone that you were nosing around. Whoever Brent told probably suspected you of being a cop or something like that, so when you showed up at the party, they showed you a good time, giving Brent the chance to slip White Claudia in your drink."

"It was Brent, my roommate? I didn't agree with this whole drug thing, but I trusted him," Michael winced as he felt a pinch in his arm.

Trey continued. "Apparently, you had an adverse reaction to it, since it was your first time. You passed out, and Brent took you back to their room. He was supposed to figure out what you knew and if you intended to tell, I think they planned on doing something terrible to you."

"But then everything got out of control and we ended up here in Silent Hill," Michael concluded. "I only remember fragments of that party, which is why I didn't mention it earlier."

Trey opted to leave out the other part, at least for now. "What about the other incident at the museum?"

Michael heard Trey put away the needle, so he faced Trey and rolled down his sleeve. "Look, I don't know what it is, but I feel like I'm drawn to these strange situations. Almost like some kind of psychic connection. It sounds crazy, but that's why I didn't mention it before."

"Well can your power of the mind figure out how to stop all this?"

"We're close, I know that much for sure. We've got to find Christine and Heather. Her dad is still out there. Killian mentioned that he may have somehow infected Harry Mason with White Claudia too."

Trey finished packing everything back in the medical bag. "How do you feel?"

Michael realized the immense pain had subsided and he wasn't nearly as hot or weak. "I think I'll be okay. Thanks, Trey. I really—"

"Hey, didn't I say no mushy stuff. You psychology majors that have weird psychic powers are all too sensitive and soft. You're almost as bad as Christine," Trey suddenly went silent.

Michael realized that even through all his bravado, Trey was suffering too. "We'll find her just like you found me."

"I hope so," Trey replied. He cleaned the wound on his arm, used a cream from the medical bag, and rewrapped it with fresh gauze. "Are you ready to go?"

Michael nodded and headed toward the door behind Killian.

"Wait," Trey said as he jogged back to the door he came through. "This way. I have to show you something first."

Michael followed without arguing, primarily because he still felt hazy from the drug. When they walked through the door, Trey stayed behind and propped the door open with the same arrow.

"I know this place," Michael said rubbing his temple. "That's right. Felicia had her party here. We came here first then went to the club. After that we just came back here. I figured I was being overly suspicious of Brent and his friends."

"What happened next?" Trey probed.

Michael shook his head, "I think I passed out. Brent dragged me back to our room. But if what you said is true about him slipping White Claudia in my drink then it's definitely likely I passed out."

Trey collected the journals and passed them to Michael. "I think you should read these."

Michael read quite fast, so he was done in about a minute. Though he was brown-skinned, Trey could see how the blood had drained from his face. "Where's Felicia?"

Trey shook his head and replied, "You don't want to know."

"Where?" Michael demanded.

Trey motioned to the bathroom then averted his eyes. "Don't go in there," he warned, but Michael strode into the bathroom.

It was only a moment before Michael staggered out, his eyes wide and even paler than before. "Trey," he mumbled before collapsing to the ground. "I saw everything. I couldn't move. Oh, how she screamed. No one helped. They all cut her. Trey, they drank her blood. They chanted something strange around that symbol. But I broke free of the paralysis, I tried to help her. I tried to stop them, but I blacked out."

"Maybe it was that psychic stuff you mentioned earlier."

Michael calm demeanor vanished. He was panicked and scarred. The scene played over and over through his mind, his senses remembering every smell, hearing every scream, feeling every splatter of blood. "I remember now. I remember everything."

"Pull it together," Trey shook his shoulders, hoping to jolt him back to his senses. "I need you. Christine needs you. Heather's out there and she won't say it, but she needs you too. Not to mention Harry Mason, Tina, Henry, and anyone else that's out there. We know the root of this evil and it's up to us to stop it."

Michael breathed deeply and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. "I—I'm sorry. Everything came back with such a rush. And seeing Felicia like that—"

"I know. I know," he sympathetically said. He patted Michael on the back and helped him stand. "Are you okay?"

Michael nodded, still unsure of whether he was going to throw up or not. But in that moment, he had a flash of clarity. Something had clicked in his mind and he understood. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that he understood, but he had focus and determination. More importantly, he knew what had to be done.

He reached in his backpack and pulled out a small Casio Exlim camera.

"Hey, I didn't know you had that," Trey said.

"I came prepared," Michael replied. He took a close-up shot of the symbol. "I think we're going to need this. You at least paid attention in art class, didn't you?"

Trey looked at him with mock appellation.

"I know, I know, you're a pro-artist, right? Just be ready to put those skills to use when we need them. Stacy Aspen and Felicia Drake. Their deaths won't be for nothing."

"Sure, what's the plan, boss?"

"We weren't separated accidentally, but something tells me we'll be together for the final battle. Each of us will have a piece of the puzzle, the way to defeat Samael and this is your piece. My piece is here," Michael tapped his mind.

"What about the others?"

"We'll know when we find them."

The two knew left the room with the knowledge that they were getting closer to the end and that there was no guarantee that either of them would live through the final confrontation.

Notes:

Any fans of Resident Evil should recognize the mixture of green, blue, and red herbs used in the counter-agent to White Claudia.

Rodarian: Thanks for the review! I'm glad that you liked the intensity of the chapter. I had quite a few slow chapters before—I figured it was time to step up the action a bit. The chapter explaining the appearance of the other Cybil is posted—let me know what you think. Actually, Eliza Dushku (Bring It On, Wrong Turn) would be a perfect Heather—she's got the attitude and the look. Millia Jovovich (Resident Evil, Fifth Element) might actually make a good Cybil. Jason Behr (The Grudge) would actually be a perfect Henry. I don't know about dear old Viggo—he seems a bit too rugged for Harry.

Crazyb1tch85: Thank for the holiday wishes—I hope you had a great Christmas. I know you'll have a great New Year too! Hopefully, this chapter answers some of your questions about why they got separated. Michael had to remember so he could awaken his otherwise latent psychic ability, Trey was meant to find the antidote, Heather was meant to finally meet her father, and Christine was set on a path to reconcile her past. Hopefully, this is offering up some closure for each of the characters before entering the final battle. Christine was left a bit safer than the others, but as you can see, she is going to have some trouble on her hands with Sara. The monster taking Cybil's form is explained in its entirety in the new chapter of Silent Hill: Harry Mason. It also ties into her strange behavior with Christine way earlier in the story. I remembered someone commenting about my decision to shed Heather's vest way back at the beginning of the story. I kept meaning to get it back to her, so finally, she has her trademark white vest! I do have a special place in my heart for the first few chapters—I think I got some of the best scares there, but these other chapters are getting on the same level, slowly but surely. Trey has really developed over the course of the story—he's the comic relief, resident bad-ass, and stable constant of the group. He's personally my favorite character to write especially now. I haven't seen the preview—I actually read that it was coming out a while ago. I read that some of the fundamental story elements were drastically changed. But I'll wait to see the preview before clarifying. And thanks for the huge-ass review. Here's a huge-ass response—a little late, but better than never, right? Merry Christmas.

Shortey: Thank you, thank you, thank you. As I said in my other response, keep me on the straight and narrow. I hope to continue to improving all the way to the end. I've really been focusing on painting a vivid picture for people reading. These next two chapters will really be defining for the characters themselves since they will be tested in ways they haven't been before. Hope this update was quick enough (I think I broke a record here)—let me know what you think.

DarknessinShadows: I'm glad you liked the chapter. The next few chapters will come out pretty quickly as well, so you will see frequent updates.

Fallen Angel-2009: Thanks for the review! I'm glad that you like the entire story so far. It's definitely become a much bigger project than I initially intended—and much more popular than I thought it would be. Thank you for staying with the story this long and I hope I can continue to keep a great story all the way to the end.


	23. One Step Closer

I.

One of the most well-known medical facilities in the region, Brookhaven Hospital had patrons from across the cities of Silent Hill, South Ashfield, Brahms, and all the small towns in between. Not only did the hospital treat severe injuries, they also had a 24-hour emergency room and a widely publicized mental illness treatment program. The most noteworthy quality of the hospital was the facility itself. Sanitary hallways, clean floors, gleaming walls, and plenty of lighting. Once any patient stepped through the door, there was no doubt they were in a hospital and they would get the best treatment possible.

However, as Trey Harrison scanned the hallways, he wondered what airborne diseases he was going to contract just from stepping foot in such a repulsive place. The hospital was no longer that premier facility that biology classes toured, newspapers wrote about, or that doctors were proud of. Instead, it was a dingy, dilapidated shell of a hospital, almost a mockery. It looked as though some plague had erupted from the basement and ate away everything, transforming it into some hellish form of its former self. Everything down to the tiniest scrap of paper overflowed with dark energy and pure evil.

"This is the hospital?" Michael said as he scanned the hallways, in as much disbelief as Trey. If somehow his newfound psychic flashes would allow him to fly, Michael surely would have floated through the disgusting hospital.

Trey shook his head, "This Samael is one sick demon. Why the hospital?"

Michael recalled the connection to the hospital earlier. Heather—actually it was Alessa—was in the hospital for some period of time. Maybe the incident tied the evil power to the hospital somehow. Regardless of the reason, Michael felt that with simply being there, the both of them were in grave danger.

Michael declined to answer, assuming Trey was asking a rhetorical question. Instead, his attention was focused on the light vibrations his cell phone gave off. He stopped abruptly and scanned the hallways. Shadows concealed corners and the end of the hallway, making a suitable hiding place for any monstrosity that decided to attack Trey and Michael.

"Something's here," Michael ominously said. He had his gun drawn and continued to scan the room, taking small steps backwards towards the wall to ensure he wasn't grabbed from behind.

Trey searched farther down the hallway, inching close to the shadows, mistrustful of the almost living ebon pathways. He kept his crossbow pointed forward at all times, ready to pincushion anything that even thought about being evil.

"Michael, you find anything?" Trey whispered.

Michael hesitated, still scanning the hallway. The vibrations were getting stronger, which meant something was getting closer. "No, but something's close. My phone's going crazy," his voice also a whisper.

Trey was ready to assert that maybe Michael's phone was as off as his predictions, but when he turned to Michael, Trey paused for a moment and watched the darkness behind Michael. Something didn't seem right, like it was moving toward him. Pale, ghostly arms emerged from the shadows toward Michael, intending on pulling him into the void.

"Michael, look out!" Trey yelled.

Michael immediately dropped to the ground as well-timed arrows whizzed over his head. He arced his head around to get a view of what had managed to sneak up behind him, what Trey had shot and hopefully killed.

A nurse lay on the ground, five arrows jutting out of her chest, and her appendages twitched frantically as she lay dying. At first, Michael thought Trey had overzealously shot a possible companion or another unwitting victim of Silent Hill. But upon closer inspection, Michael saw that the nurse was nothing more than another warped monster created by Silent Hill.

She was dressed in a pale pink, seventies-type nurse outfit, complete with the silly-looking nurse hat and the clunky, matching shoes. Black, bobbed hair framed an unnaturally pallid face. Her features were nothing special, except the raw area around her mouth. It appeared as though something had ripped her lips and adjoining skin away from around her mouth, leaving behind exposed teeth, muscle and nerves. Immensely unattractive.

Michael stood and brushed off his sweater, thankful that the nurse had fallen so easily and that Trey was an excellent shot. He felt his phone stop vibrating in his pocket. "Thanks. You're pretty good with that thing," Michael mentioned.

Trey grinned and shrugged. "I do what I can."

Michael inspected the nurse, who now lay completely still in a pool of crimson. Her slightly deformed body lay crumpled on the floor, her lifeless limbs unnaturally angled. Michael scrunched his face in disgust and commented, "They've all been changed into monsters, but they don't look like any of the others. They almost look human."

"I don't want to think about it like that," Trey replied. "If these people are serving some evil god, there's no humanity left in them."

His rationalization made complete sense to Michael, but then again, it seemed almost too black and white. Michael then realized that Trey had been through a lot since entering this nightmare, so he understood how Trey could rationalize it so easily. And Michael didn't want to think about these monsters actually being normal people once either.

"Where do you think Killian went?" Trey asked.

"I don't know," Michael replied and stopped walking. "Is there anyplace where he could imprison someone?"

Trey thought for a moment. "The third floor's the psychiatric ward. When we toured this place, they let us walk through the ward up there. All of the doors can lock from the outside and are supposed to be escape-proof. They said it was for the safety of the patients, but after everything we've seen, I sincerely doubt it."

"Then Christine could be up there. Let's—" Michael began, but stopped as his phone again vibrated in his pocket. Michael glanced up at Trey, but his eyes strayed fixed over Michael's shoulder.

"Mike, you might want to see this," Trey said, his voice hollow.

Reluctant to turn around, Michael moved slowly and hoped Trey was only joking. But when his eyes adjusted and he saw the figures that shambled toward him, Michael felt instantly overwhelmed.

More nurses, clones of the first, shambled down the hallway, their legs appearing to have trouble supporting their weight. They walked as if pigeon-toed and bowlegged at the same time. Some carried a rusty metal pipe while others intended to use their bare hands.

Michael turned on his heel and began to retreat from the nurses, but froze only after one step. More nurses approached from the opposite direction. Same walk, probably same intent, trapping Michael and Trey in the hallway. There were at least seven or eight coming down Trey's side of the hallway and about the same number from Michael's side. Trey saw what Michael saw and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Looks like we're not going to get out of here without a fight," Trey declared. "You got enough ammo to take care of this?"

Michael's eyes locked with Trey's. "No," he simply replied.

"No? Is that all you're going to say? I thought you were the fearless, know-it-all leader of the group. Aren't you supposed to have a plan?"

"I'm not the leader, Trey," Michael flatly replied. "But, I _do_ have a plan. We have an advantage. They're slow. We can use hand-to-hand to take them down"

Trey's jaw went slack with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Mike, in case you didn't notice, we're talking about flesh-eating, unholy, powered by something evil, demented creatures, not some punks or prostitutes roaming the streets looking to mug someone. Besides, you don't look like an ass-kicking machine. No offense."

"None taken. But it's your mistake, like so many others, underestimating me. I've taken martial arts for several years."

"Oh, really?" Trey did nothing to hide his doubt. "So, how many fights have you been in?"

"Well," Michael knew that he hadn't been in any fights. For the most part, he was a likable person. And for those that didn't like him, a simple quick witted insult or direct reprimand circumvented any sort of physical altercation. All of his fights had been in karate class, controlled physical bouts where no one really got hurt. This would be vastly different, but still, Michael's confidence didn't waver under Trey's scrutiny. "The number of fights isn't important. I can handle it." He hoped that would be enough to satisfy Trey. Now was the wrong time to start having doubts in each other's capabilities.

Trey seemed only half-placated with the answer. "So what's the plan?"

"No, plan, just fight."

"Well, shut up and duck!" Trey commanded.

Michael obeyed without hesitation as arrows sailed over his head into a nurse that had closed the gap between itself and Michael. The nurse reeled from the impact of each arrow—a total of seven—then fell to the ground. Michael lunged at a crazed nurse, barely dodging her icy reach. He landed a right straight punch to its face and followed with a kick to its chin.

Trey struck another nurse with the butt of his crossbow, turned around and hit another with the butt. He spun back and aimed quickly then fired several arrows into her chest. He whipped back around and repeated the action.

Michael planted his heel in another nurse's face. She flew back into another one and they toppled to the ground. He then spun around with a backhand that caught another nurse in the jaw. Yet, another nurse overtook Michael. It wrapped its arms around him from behind. Michael snapped his head back and caught the nurse in its nose, but the tight grip didn't loosen.

An arrow whizzed by and hit the nurse in the center of her forehead, inches from Michael's own head. The grip slipped off Michael, in time for him to ram a fist into another nurse's throat then bring her face to his knee. Another came at him from the side, but Michael simply used her momentum to keep her going past him into the wall. Arrows finished the job.

The fight continued until Trey and Michael stood back-to-back, surrounded by fallen nurses. Some still twitched sporadically as the lay dying, but soon they too were still.

Michael and Trey both breathed hard, their adrenaline rushing through their veins. Their bodies wanted more, but they were thankful the nurses weren't being birthed from some contraption that produced an endless supply of demonic nurses.

Trey smirked, "Well, Karate Kid, even though I saved your ass a few times, I'm impressed. You're well on your way to being a bad-ass like yours truly."

"Sweet," Michael sarcastically replied. Michael felt his breathing return to normal as they weaved through the maze of bodies toward the end of the hallway. They walked briskly but cautiously, eyes peeled for any lingering nurses ready to surprise them. But they reached the end of the hallway without further incident, now halted by a sturdy door with a keypad on the side.

"Maybe we should head to the third floor," Trey suggested. "We don't have the code for this door anyways, do we?"

"I don't have it. But there's obviously something important behind this door. Maybe we missed the clue for the code."

Trey adamantly disagreed. "Mike, we've solved a lot of puzzles and seen plenty of these code-type keypads and we haven't missed anything up to this point. I don't think this room is important, but if you insist, why don't you just try some random number."

"And set off some alarm and have this place swarming with more nurses?"

"Good point. What do you think is behind there?"

Michael shook his head. It was something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. The third floor and finding Christine should have been at the forefront of his mind, but he felt that she was safe, wherever she was. But this door, this is what would lead them toward the end—toward Samael.

"I don't know," he replied. "Let's just wait here for a minute. Someone else has the code to this door, and they'll open it for us."

Trey gave a cynical sigh in reply. "Look, Mr. Psychic, you've been acting all omniscient ever since five minutes ago. I don't think you've had this whole clairvoyant thing long enough to start making predictions like that."

Michael sighed as well. Trey was right to an extent. He couldn't explain why or how he knew the things that he did. Or why he kept getting flashes of information or predictions. It was strange, uncontrollable, and flighty. Maybe it wasn't as reliable as Michael wanted it to be. But still, the feeling was strong enough that he couldn't simply ignore it.

"Look, I can't really explain it. I don't understand it either. But I'm sure that—"

"Nine-eight-zero-one!" a frantic female voice, somewhat familiar, resounded down the hallway towards them.

"What was that?" Trey asked.

"Nine-eight-zero-one!" the voice sounded again, this time much closer. "The door! Open it! Hurry!"

"No f-ing way," Trey slapped his head. He realized that was the code to the door. "But how?"

Michael turned down the hallway and saw Christine in the front, hurdling fallen nurses, followed closely by Henry and Tina. They scrambled toward them, eyes laced with panic.

"Trey, open the door," Michael told him.

Trey paused for a moment, ready to ask why they were in such a hurry. But then he saw their pursuer. A girl's head, attached to a comically elongated neck, snaked around the corner and her deformed body crawled along the wall after them, two large pincers reaching for them.

"Dammit! Couldn't your psychic thing have detected a huge-ass monster lurking around the hospital? It's kind of hard to miss!" Trey raised his crossbow and aimed at the girl, but Michael gently pushed his crossbow down.

"Just open the door!" Michael shouted. He stepped toward Christine and the others and motioned them to hurry. The monster was quickly closing the gap between them. If they stumbled even slightly, there was no way they would escape the gruesome fate of being crushed or decapitated by those pincers.

Trey punched in the wrong sequence of numbers, but on the second try, a click signaled the door had been unlocked. Trey swung the door open and motioned frantically for Christine, Henry, and Tina to hurry.

Michael whipped out his gun and shot at an exposed pipe on the wall. Surprised that his shot was so accurate, he watched as a jet of steam erupted from a crack and blinded the monster temporarily. It screamed and staggered around on the wall then the floor, all the while howling and cursing.

Christine, Henry, and Tina rushed by Michael then by Trey into the confines of the office. They turned quickly to see the monster, Sara, had been distracted by the hot steam still rushing from the pipe with a menacing hiss.

"Guys, get in here!" Christine called.

Trey moved, but when Michael didn't he stepped back into the hallway. "What the hell are you doing, Mike? Get in here, now!" When Michael didn't move, he added, "Look, you don't have to prove you're a bad-ass, I was only kidding about that. Now would you move it so we can shut this door?"

Michael's head angled over his shoulder and he looked at Trey. Trey saw a deepness in his eyes, something dark and unrecognizable, and it surprised him. "Michael?" he said, not sure if his companion had now become a dangerous enemy.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Christine called. Henry and Tina stood behind her, their expressions relaying the same questions Trey and Christine were voicing.

Michael turned away and faced the monster, which had now recovered from the surprise attack and stood poised ready to charge. He closed his eyes and felt his mind expand, reaching for something in the past, something a long time ago. Ancient. An archaic verse to dispel the evil. No, this wasn't the first time this kind of evil had surfaced. But before, they believed in the internal power to defeat it, channeled through spells and crafts. The knowledge poured into Michael as a clear train of thought, like remembering something that he had learned before.

It made sense. This evil wasn't new, just in a different form. But the same methods used back then could work now. And somehow, Michael had faith that he could dispel the monster.

Michael opened his eyes and he knew what needed to be said. A Latin phrase poured from his lips, in a voice not quite his yet not so foreign.

The short chant echoed in the hallway, as if one hundred voices had shouted the words in an empty concert hall. Though he didn't know what the hell Michael had said, it sent chills up Trey's spine. He swore that the hallway dropped several degrees in temperature and the shadows writhed in gleeful anticipation for the results of Michael's foreign words.

At first, everything was still, like time had stopped. Then, Sara abruptly fell to the ground, writhing in excruciating pain. A primal bellow of pain escaped her lips as her skin bubbled and boiled. Then her appendages bloated, rising and falling like something was building up in them. Blood began to pour from her eyes, nose, mouth, and any other orifice that opened into her body. Her entire body thrashed about for some kind of reprieve from the awful pain it now endured.

"Trey, grab Michael!" Christine yelled.

Trey reached for Michael and grabbed him as he stumbled and almost fell. Trey guided him into the room and Henry slammed the door behind him, muffling the bellows that echoed through the hallway. Only seconds later, there was a loud explosion, like a balloon filled with wet meat. Henry looked at the crack at the bottom of the door and noticed green blood seeping underneath. It crept only a few inches into the room then stopped.

Trey sat Michael down in a chair and looked into his eyes. That thing—whatever it was—wasn't in his eyes anymore, just the brown friendly eyes Trey was used to. "Michael," he said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he absently replied.

"What happened? What did you do?" Tina stammered. Fear and uncertainty punctuated every word, and when Michael saw the questionable looks Henry and Christine gave, Michael knew that they didn't trust him. They thought he was one of the evil people.

"I—I don't know," Michael quietly replied. It was the truth, he really didn't know. And the little bit that he thought he understood would seem so ludicrous that they wouldn't believe it anyways. But the next words just flowed out as Michael met Tina's inquisitive stare. "A spell. I don't know how, but I knew it. I used it against the monster. It was something old, used by priests before to battle Samael and this evil."

"But how did _you_ know it?" Henry asked. The mistrust in his voice caught everyone's attention.

"Wait, Michael's not the bad guy here," Christine interrupted. "He just saved us from Sara. There have been a lot of strange things that have happened tonight. I finally remembered my past and how I'm connected to this place in a flash of clarity. There are a lot of things that we can't exactly explain. Let's just leave it be for now, okay?"

Michael met Christine's gaze and realized that just like Trey, she had witnessed something in Silent Hill too. Something meant just for her.

"Christine, we were looking for you. I, no we're glad you're okay," Trey changed the topic, sensing Michael's uneasy posture.

She knew what Trey was doing and secretly thanked him for it. Christine replied, "Yeah, I'm okay." Then directed her attention to both Trey and Michael. "I've thought about this over the past few minutes, but I don't think it was an accident that we were separated. We had to face our own trials or situations to realize why we are here. Somehow, I don't think it's an accident that the four of us—Heather, Trey, you, and I even Tina and Henry—are in Silent Hill. I found out the truth about myself and something tells me that you found something too, Michael. Trey, did you find something?"

Trey frowned. "Not really," then he remembered the desecrated corpse of Felicia. "Yeah," he corrected, "but it didn't tell me why I'm here. Maybe I'm just a victim of circumstance. I saw those people let themselves be turned into monsters. Maybe it's because of what I saw. I've just been a tag-along for most of this."

"I can say the same thing," Tina added. "I was simply caught up in all this. If not for Harry, I don't think I would even be alive right now. Dr. Killian was going to fire me, but instead, he went crazy and attacked me. Harry saved me. And even when we found ourselves lost in Silent Hill, Henry saved me again from that Pyramid Head thing."

Henry replied, "I've been trapped in my apartment for the past two days. It's really weird, but I don't see what it has to do with this."

Michael answered, "Christine's right. I've thought about this for a while now—all of us have been touched in one way or another by Silent Hill. You may not know it, or realize it, but that's the common thread between all of us. Trey and I go to college here, Christine was on her way to Silent Hill for a vacation, coincidentally with the son of Cybil Bennett a survivor of the horrors of Silent Hill a few years ago, Heather has been a target of Silent Hill all of her life. Tina, you work at the hospital, which I think has a significant role in Alessa's life after her accident."

"I've been to Silent Hill before, a few years back on a photo shoot," Henry realized.

"Trey witnessed everyone that lives in Silent Hill has pledged themselves to Samael, even at the college. But instead of submitting ourselves to Samael, we've chosen the harder path—we're fighting. We've made the conscious decision to see this through to the end and that's why we're here. I think we, in turn, have been chosen because of that," Michael finished.

"Chosen? By who?" Tina asked.

Michael shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe some other higher deity that represents good, one that wants to see Samael and all this evil destroyed. And we're the vessels to do that."

Henry frowned. He admitted that they had been immersed in a world of madness and evil. But to go so far as to say that they were nothing more than the pawns stuck in a battle between good and evil didn't sit right with Henry. He didn't like the idea of his life and his actions being controlled by some otherworldly forces that were too scared to confront one another that instead had to rely on them to decide that fate of not only themselves, but possibly of the world.

"Why doesn't this deity simply face Samael head-on then? Why use us?" Henry posed.

"I can't answer that," Michael said, his patience wearing down. "It's the same way with Samael though. We've been attacked by strange creatures and other devout cult members. We haven't been attacked directly, at least I don't think we have. Maybe there's some cosmic rule that keeps them from directly interfering. I don't know." He rubbed his chin in frustration and fatigue.

Henry replied, "Wait a minute, this sounds all too—"

"Crazy?" Michael finished. "Is it? How else could you explain being trapped in your apartment where no one can hear you or save you? How can you explain the notes, the writing on the walls, the deaths we've had seen, the strange characters we've encountered, the monsters we've battled? How could I, never having Latin before in my life, use some spell that totally eradicated a monster? No, it doesn't make any sense, but then again, we're in a world where sense doesn't matter. Evil is what prevails here and its spreading. I don't believe in fate and all that, but if this is the purpose of my existence, to face whatever's out there causing all this, then I'll accept it whether I like it or not. I'm not going to just give up. If someone has some better rationalization or idea, by all means, throw it out there."

An uneasy silence fell over the group. No one could come up with a better interpretation of the circumstances now surrounding them. No one wanted to. No matter how any of could rationalize it, the truth was undeniable. Some evil force was after them and if they didn't fight, they would simply be another victim. They knew Michael's explanation had faults and he knew that too, but they knew that on some fundamental level, he had a good grasp of what was going on. And that's what scared them the most.

"You're right." Trey announced, breaking the silence. Everyone waited to hear what he was going to say, but paused when he said, "It's crazy." Trey then added, "But I can't disagree with anything you've said. I trust you."

_I trust you._ Those three words had never meant so much to Michael as they did now. They didn't think he was another evil incarnation, well at least Trey didn't. Trey knew that whatever this situation was or wasn't he would have to rely on others to get through it. Trey and Michael had saved each other so many times during this whole thing, and now, Trey was thinking him for it, in his own way. Trey was no longer another person simply thrust into a precarious situation with him. Trey was a friend. A damn good one.

Henry stepped forward. "I know what I just said, but I trust you. I trust everyone in this room. I still haven't figured out why I'm here, but there's a reason, and I'll stick with it to the end."

Tina added, "I'm with Henry. We'll make it through this together, helping and trusting each other."

Tina Grey and Henry Townsend, two other lost souls trapped in Silent Hill. Yet, they were drawn together by unknown forces to face whatever lay ahead. Michael not only respected them, but he felt committed to them, like he would any other friend.

Christine smiled, "And I trust all of you too. All the way to the end." She made direct eye contact with Michael, her gaze relaying more than just her words. There was something in Christine's words seemed to foretell some sort of unavoidable tragedy that would test the trust they had for each other. Michael felt glad that they had bonded together, even for these few moments, not only as a team, but as friends.

"Okay, so I'm not going to hold hands with you guys and starting singing," Trey brought everyone back to the situation at hand. "So, what's the plan?"

"Going back that way is out," Christine replied matter-of-factly. She surveyed the office and stopped at the conspicuous curtain covering an entire wall of the four-walled room. "Guys, this office, it's inside the hospital, right?" When everyone responded with a strange look, she added, "What I mean is that there shouldn't be a window in here. It's inside the building."

Tina realized what she was saying. "Yeah, you're right. There are two other offices on either side and there's another office that used to be connected to this one, but they remodeled and built a wall between them. This wall that's covered with the curtain."

Henry walked to one side and Trey walked to the opposite end. With a quick tug, they pulled the curtain down to reveal a large hole, outlined with two red circles, one inside the other. Strange symbols and writing were etched into the inch of space created by the two circles. The hole was quite large, but disappeared into darkness. The light from the room didn't even shine into the hole, like the darkness simply absorbed it.

"What is it?" Tina stood and circled around to the front of the hole, but smartly kept her distance.

Michael stood and crossed the room, facing the circle. He peered into the deep darkness and replied, "Samael's decided to finally confront us."

"I thought you said they couldn't directly interfere," Henry mentioned.

Michael replied "Whoever said the bad guys play by the rules? This is it, everyone, the final confrontation. I don't know what will happen once we go through this passage. I hope that we will find Heather and the others, but if not, we'll be face to face with something inexplicably terrifying that could take our lives. Is everyone ready for that?" Michael turned to face everyone.

As Henry and Tina stood, Henry took Tina's delicate hand in his. She turned her gaze toward him and smiled.

"No matter what happens, we'll get through this," Henry said, not only to Tina, but as a reassurance to everyone.

Christine moved closer to Trey and squeezed his hand. "Whatever's on the other side, we'll fight it with all we have," she held Trey's gaze for a moment then locked eyes with Michael. "And we'll trust each other."

Again, Michael had the feeling that this battle wouldn't be without trials and somehow, trust in each other would play a huge part in the outcome. Michael didn't know what that situation would be, but he knew that all of them would not make it out of this battle. And he felt that Christine knew that too. Still, he only nodded in reply.

Michael stepped closest to the hole. As he neared, the darkness came to life, reaching and churning, longing to swallow new victims for its master. Michael took in a huge breath. His palms were sweaty, his backpack suddenly felt ten times as heavy, and his knees threatened to shake his entire body apart. But he stood his ground.

He checked his gun—it was full—and let it hang slack by his side, "It's time to end this."

Michael stepped into the darkness and his friends followed.

Notes:

Work, school, writer's block—but I finally got this chapter done. I got a wild, creative hair, and basically rewrote the chapter tonight (29 Jan). If you're at this part, feel free to leave me a review to let me know what you think.

Trey's statement about prostitutes and punks roaming the streets is a reference to the old school, beat-em-up game, _Final Fight_, by Capcom. I just love putting in all these little references to different games and movies!

Shortey: Thanks for the review. Actually, I really liked this chapter with Trey being a stand alone character. It really let him shine as a character—that same for Michael, Christine, and Heather. I do like Trey's scene the best though. I'm glad to see you liked the long overdue reunion between Heather and Harry. It's been my intention from the beginning to reunite them, but as the story went on, more and more things kept separating them. Let's just hope they stay together to the end.

DigiSim: Did you check out Richard B. Sampson's story? His story based on Shivers has been getting some good reviews. Check it out and let him know what you think.

DarknessinShadows: I'll be sure to check out your Silent Hill story sometime this week. I know you'll be busy with school, so review when you can. And thanks for the e-mail, you helped break through my writer's block and bit of procrastination (smile).

Rodarian: Glad you liked everything I threw at you guys in the last chapter. I'm still thinking of a song that will fit the finale, especially since it's going to start in the next chapter!

Duelist-17: Shame on you for taking so long to review (lol). Seriously though, thanks for reviewing just the same. Let me know what you think of this new chapter.


	24. Last Stand

I.

The darkness readily swallowed the six of the remaining lost souls of Silent Hill. It slithered over them with a frigidity that ate through to the bone and smothered them almost to the point of suffocation. Though it seemed forever, the torture only lasted a second. Michael emerged from the dark passage, unnerved but otherwise unharmed. But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, Michael felt a chill run up his spine.

Michael heard the others stumble into the room, quickly recovering from the disorientation of the jaunt. Their relief soon turned into foreboding as Christine and Trey immediately recognized where they ended up.

"We're back where we first met, the church," Christine broke the uneasy silence between the group. Michael and Trey both nodded in agreement, while Henry and Tina simply studied every part of the scene. "But I don't remember it quite like this," Christine added.

The pews were still in place, along with the altar where they first found Michael struggling with Father Tom. Everything was still there, but the atmosphere was starkly different. Instead of being a deceptive sanctuary, it was now a private hell haphazardly disguised as a church.

Dark, syrupy blood seeped through large cracks in the walls, ceiling, and floor. Maggots and other squirming, slithering creatures infested the rotten pews. On top of the altar, something gory pulsated and rocked with sickening sucking sounds. Faint lights swung back and forth over the entire scene, bringing life to the far-reaching shadows.

The atmosphere of the church wasn't much different from the darkness. Dense with evil, like a shroud of vice blanketing the entire room. It was colder than any other building they had been in, and the air itself felt heavy and thick. Even as they breathed the air, they all were aware that it felt evil and wrong. Michael glanced back and noticed the hole they entered from was gone. There was only a bloody wall in its place. Silence hung in the air, and a mist crept in through the windows and hovered inches off the floor.

"You know Christine, I think you're right. There's something different about the place, but I just can't put my finger on it," Trey jokingly replied. Michael shook his head, amazed at how Trey could keep his notable wit and levity knowing that at any minute, some powerful, dark force could leap out at them.

Tina pulled closer to Henry and he was glad for the comfort of another human's touch. He hadn't faced so many horrors in one day, and now, he was going to face something so terrible that he and the others may not even survive. His heart threatened to break his ribs from pounding so hard, but he kept his cool and surveyed the room along with the others. "Hello?" Trey's voice echoed through the church, but silence was the only reply.

"Trey I don't think you want to call out to whatever's out there. If it's some evil force, it probably already knows we're here," Tina commented.

"It never hurts to announce yourself anyways. Maybe Samael is in the bathroom. Evil deities do use the bathroom, right?"

Christine sucked back a laugh and Michael shook his head again. "You are so obnoxious. I take back all the good things I said about you earlier," Michael said.

Trey gave a lopsided grin then moved toward the altar with his crossbow drawn. Michael was to his right advancing with his gun drawn as well, scanning the pews and dark recesses. Henry, Tina, and Christine hung back, waiting for Michael's command.

When a door suddenly opened, Trey and Michael whipped their weapons around, ready to fire upon whatever demon decided to rear its ugly head.

"Wait!" Heather Mason called out. She threw her hands in the air and waved, signaling to Michael and Trey. They stood locked in place with their respective weapons—a 9mm Beretta and a rapid-fire crossbow—aimed directly towards the door.

Heather's voice reached them before her image emerged from the darkened doorway into the dimly lit church. She them a half-smile before adding, "So were you guys just going to shoot and ask questions later?"

"We thought you were a monster," Trey responded. Then he added, "Well, I mean you are a monster with that attitude, but, we thought you were like a gross-looking monster." When Heather narrowed her eyes, ready to whip back with a snappy retaliation, Trey grinned, "Welcome back."

Heather shook her head and smiled. "Thanks, and I brought some strays along. I think they can help us out a lot."

From the doorway, as if on cue, Cybil Bennett, Douglas Carter, and Harry Mason emerged from the darkness of the doorway and gazed at the teens. Michael and Trey stared back in disbelief.

"This is my dad, Cybil, and Douglas," Heather introduced them.

"Harry Mason?" Henry crossed the room to get a better glimpse of the man. But before he could say anything, Tina rushed over and threw her arms around Harry. Harry stumbled back, glad to see her but at the same time slightly embarrassed.

Tina pulled back, oblivious to Harry's uncomfortable reaction. "Harry, I'm glad you're okay. I thought that red headed pyramid thing may have gotten you. I was worried that you didn't make it out of that house."

Before Harry could relay what happened to him, Henry approached him and gave him a firm handshake. "I'm glad to see you're alive too," Henry said. "Tina told me that you helped her out a few times, but actually seeing you for myself is a relief. I didn't know what happened to you after that nurse whisked you away."

Harry smiled glad that they had made it through whatever horrors had been thrown their way. "I'm just glad that you found me when you did, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I don't know how you found me, but thank you. I owe you one."

"Looks like you three found each other okay. I really didn't think we would run into each other like this," Heather commented. "I was kind of worried." Her eyes fell to the floor. She seemed to be embarrassed about admitting her feelings.

"Hey, we're glad to see you too," Michael smiled. "All of us were faced with challenges, something that we had to realize for ourselves and why we were here. We may have been lost souls when we came here, but we're going to fight to get back to where we belong."

Heather looked at Michael and for the first time, she smiled. "I don't know how you do it. Despite all this, you've stayed positive. You've really been the foundation of our group."

Michael shook his head. "Don't think that I haven't been scared, that I haven't had my doubts, that I haven't wanted to give up. Because I have. But I knew that I could go on because all of you were there with me."

"Who writes your script, dude?" Trey asked, a comical puzzled look on his face.

"I—"Michael began but stopped. He noticed Cybil approaching Christine. Her stride was purposeful, but at the same time, non-threatening. He watched intently, ready to react if it was needed. Michael noticed Trey and Heather watching as well.

Christine took a hesitant step back, trepidation etched across her face. The last thing they had found out about Cybil was the diary they had found. Now, an important moment was upon them. This was the first time that they had seen each other since Christine and Sean first left Brahms for Silent Hill.

"Christine," Cybil said, her voice beginning to fill with emotion. "I—I'm sorry. You and Sean's involvement in all this is my fault. I know that Sean is—" she trailed off, not wanting to complete the sentence, as if somehow, it would conjure the image of him dragging himself across the floor towards her again. "This place, tried to turn us against each other, and I was an unwitting pawn in all of this. Heather was attacked by an evil version of myself, the one that planted the journal you read. Christine, none of that is true."

Christine sucked in a breath, relieved that Cybil hadn't actually written the diary.

"That Cybil, the evil one, is the one that attacked you that night. But still, I was responsible. I carried around that evil all these years and didn't know it. I thought that everything was over and that I could protect the both of you if I was strong, but I couldn't have been more wrong. It's cost me my son, I can't bear to lose you too."

Christine blinked back a sudden sting of tears. She didn't deserve this. Christine couldn't face Cybil, not after she was so easily swayed by a diary, haphazardly planted at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. She should have trusted in Cybil, who was more like a second mother to her. Yet, her trust for her faltered so easily. Christine was ashamed and embarrassed.

"Cybil," Christine managed to voice, through emotion cracked her voice. "I should apologize. "I didn't know what to think. After Sean then everything else, I just—" Christine floundered for the right words to say, but she couldn't complete a single thought. So many things ran through her mind and she couldn't focus on just one.

Cybil stepped forward and embraced Christine. It was more than a hug from a worried mother figure, it was a reconnection and a gesture of trust between the two of them. And Christine returned the hug, glad to be back in caring arms.

Despite the positive emotions overtaking them, Michael frowned. Something nagged at the back of his mind. They were in the church for a reason and they had found each other for probably the same reason. Something evil had led them here and it would make its presence know soon.

Trey noticed the Michael's frown and his searching eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Michael replied, "I'm not sure. But I don't like this. Something's not right. We were just all separated, but now, we're all back together in the first place we met, the church. I just have a bad feeling about this."

"Well, if you're going to start predicting things, let's try to predict something positive for a change," Trey replied.

"Wishing for a happy ending is futile, young man," a voice sounded from behind the altar. Killian stepped toward the altar, his orange eye aglow with evil intent. His face was contorted in an expression somewhere in between gleeful satisfaction and nagging anxiety.

Trey immediately aimed his crossbow at Killian's chest and Michael quickly aimed his gun.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Trey asked.

"What am I doing here? This is where I belong in servitude to my lord. It is you that are intruders in this world with your vile existence. But you have been summoned to bear witness to this glorious day."

"Thanks for the invite, but we'll pass on the resurrection of your dumb demon-god. All I want to witness is your crazy ass being put in a padded cell where you belong. Now, surrender quietly or I give you a few more orifices to spout your nonsense out of."

"Your catty wit and gall have grown tiresome, boy. I'm blessed by my lord. Your earthly weapons can't touch me." Killian haughtily replied.

"Dr. Killian," Tina stepped forward. "I don't know what you're planning, but you've got to stop this. You don't know what you're doing."

"Oh, but I know exactly what I'm doing, Ms. Grey," Killian hissed. His eyes narrowed and he glared at the group standing below him. "I've known what I was doing since I committed myself to serving Samael. This world is damaged and tainted, a foul incarnation of what this world should be. Samael will repair this desolate existence, and govern this world the way it was meant to be."

Heather replied, "Don't you see? All of you cult people are blinded by stupidity. None of this is right. Monsters? Killing? What person in their right mind thinks this is how things are supposed to be?"

Killian eyed Heather with disgust. "You heretical little bitch."

Heather was stunned into silence. Killian's prude demeanor had suddenly disappeared, and Heather was sure that was a bad sign.

Killian continued. "It is because of you and your denial that our lord's resurrection has taken so long. Your narrow vision and human frailty caused all this. You aren't even worthy of being damned. You're nothing and our lord will determine your fate."

Harry suddenly shot at Killian, but the bullet deflected and hit the ceiling. Still, Harry kept his gun pointed at Killian and advanced toward him, stopping next to Michael and Trey.

"Let's watch the name-calling. Otherwise it will take more than a deity's power to stop me from ripping your mouth off."

Killian hummed with glee. "It seems I may have underestimated your vitality, Harry Mason. I thought by now you would be dead. My hands are much more skilled than I thought. But the parasite should be born anytime now."

"What?" Harry said.

"Do you wonder how you are so connected to this world? Why you hear the sirens calling to you, your massive headaches? You were my backup plan, Harry Mason. If I had not procured a suitable host for my lord, you would have been the backup."

Heather kept her gun pointed at Killian, waiting for the aggressive move that would give her a reason to pull the trigger.

Trey made a grimacing face. "Wait, how many of those things are lying around? I mean, do you follow Samael around all day picking up his sh—"

"Sara," Christine realized, saddened the even after death, Sara knew nothing but pain and torture. Her stomach lurched at the thought of someone rummaging through gore until they found a suitable piece of uterus to nurse a parasite to life.

"So what's going to happen now?" Harry quickly asked.

In response, the pulsating mass on the altar suddenly shot out a long tentacle which pierced right into Harry's chest.

"Dad!" Heather screamed.

It retracted just as quickly, so no one even had time to react to the situation. Michael and Trey both fired at the mass but the arrows and bullets only deflected in random directions. Harry collapsed to one knee, held up by Heather who was at his side almost instantly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

Harry held his chest, hiding his wound from everyone. "I'm okay," he weakly said.

"No, you're not," Heather sternly replied.

Henry and Tina rushed over and pulled Harry back and put him in a sitting position on the ground. Tina forced Harry's hands apart and opened his jacket. His gray shirt was stained with dark blood.

"Here, use this!" Michael said, tossing Tina a first aid kit.

"I don't know how useful this will be, but let me try to patch you up. Take these too," Tina handed him two painkillers.

Harry took them, but already his breath was short and his face was pale.

"You sick, twisted bastard!" Michael shot. "What is the point of all this?"

Killian's mouth curled into a hateful smile. "You ask why, yet you really don't want a reason, do you? This is what I believe in and that's all that matters." Killian paused for a moment, his expression changing. "It seems as my pride has gotten the better of me. I've said too much. You will bear witness to the transformation of this world beginning with the birth of our lord."

Reaching behind his back, Killian pulled out a shiny object, a stark contrast to everything thing else. It shone brilliantly as if it was blessed, or cursed, with its own luminescence. Killian held it up for them to see and Michael frowned. "This is—"

"The Sacred Dagger of the Order," Michael finished. "A supposedly cursed artifact, said to be used in demonic resurrection ceremonies. Legend had it that it was buried long ago by priests before this town even existed. It is said that the dagger is the only weapon imbued with the power to resurrect demons as well as kill them. "

Killian's eyes shone with interest and delight. "It seems my lord's favor wasn't wasted on you. Yes, this is the dagger of which you speak, the dagger that will now bring forth our savior. A willing self-sacrifice of life shall bind our lord's spirit to this earthly plane. He shall be resurrected and remake this world into his desires, rewarding those that follow and punishing those that have rebuked him."

Killian was pale and sweating, his voice maniacal almost to the point of raving.

"Those who have served him will be rewarded with treasures beyond our wildest dreams."

Trey replied with a disappointed sigh. "Dude, you are so far gone. This storyline is so old. Bad guys—especially evil demon deities—don't keep their promises," he punctuated _promises_ with two air quotation symbols. "Once they get what they want, they kill you. So your entire life of resurrecting your demon whatever was really just a big waste."

Killian either ignored Trey or already knew that what he said was true, either way, he didn't acknowledge the statement. He continued on with his speech as if Trey had not interrupted.

"The time has come and the audience has gathered for the rebirth of this world. You have been chosen to behold the ritual then submit your lives to Samael."

He handed the dagger to Father Tom, whose eyes less sockets began to ooze blood. Instead of showing any pain at the two gaping holes, he simply grinned, the same fanatical grin he had when Michael first met him.

"What are you going to do with that?" Christine gasped. She already knew—she heard Killian's explanation, but Christine couldn't believe that Father Tom would really go through with it.

Father Tom dramatically raised the dagger in his right hand and held out his left wrist.

"No," Tina whispered in stark horror. She helped Harry to his feet, and he seemed to be managing okay. The wound wasn't deep at all, but it would keep him from moving as quickly as before.

Father Tom's evil grin remained, even after he slashed both his wrists and blood gushed from the wounds. He heard the group's pleas to stop, but it only have him more fervor to take the dagger to his throat. With a single slash, his throat opened and the blood spilled over the pulsating mass and over the altar.

Tina buried her head on Henry's shoulder, while most of the others glanced away both repulsed and sympathetic. Father Tom's body fell with a heavy thud onto the altar then slid off and hit the floor. Michael looked up to see blood splattered across the marble top and the pulsating parasite Killian stole earlier.

Michael wasn't sure what happened, but nothing seemed different. Then he saw it. Something melted out of the shadows, something inexplicably evil. The only thing that Michael's mind could decipher was its eyes. The rest of its body was nearly indescribable, like it changed a hundred times every second, appearing to be transparent yet solid, big yet small, massive and diminutive all at once. Michael drew his eyes away for fear his brain would be scrambled trying to focus on the exact characteristics of the red-eyed, shadow being.

He had seen it before. Christine, Heather, and Trey had too. It showed itself to them earlier that evening, when they found the reel in a secret room of the movie theater. Even then, all Michael could perceive was the evil that penetrated everything it gazed upon. Then, in a moment of clarity Michael realized that the creature was what Claudia birthed, the unfinished form of Samael. They had been confronted by it earlier and now, it was here to become its full self once again.

Michael chanced a glance to see the indescribable shape smother the parasite then recede back into the darkness, the altar now empty.

Everyone looked at each other, not sure what would come next. Killian's laughter broke the silence and they turned to look at him.

Killian faced the darkness where the shadow disappeared with his hands raised in exultation and awe. A hoofed foot clomped on the wood floor followed by another one. A shaggy leg, a mix between a horse's and a wolf's, took shape. Then the upper half of the leg appeared, a strong thigh, muscular with prominent veins snaking across the pink flesh. The hips and torso were those of a gorilla, at least that's what Michael could compare it to. But the ribs jutted out of the skin and encased a grotesquely huge black heart that pulsated outside of its body. Its arms ended in long, bony claws, black and stained with the blood of thousands of victims. Then the head. It was misshapen with a large snout that puffed out a harsh breath every few seconds and two rows of jagged teeth that stayed exposed since the skin around it ended abruptly as if the cells had forgotten that lips were needed. The same crimson eyes from earlier stared into the room, now ovals of evil embedded into its head.

"My lord," Killian barely squeaked out. He stepped back in awe, as the others wondered what would happen next.

II.

"No," Heather whispered. Everything that she had done up to this point was to stop this day from happening. Cheryl, Alessa, and now Heather existed only to stop what her mother, Dahlia Gillespie had started over twenty years ago. And now, that day had arrived. Heather felt an instant pang of defeat, as if there was nothing she could have done to stop Samael from being birthed into this world.

"Yes, oh yes, Alessa. Your mother willed this to happen. Though it was not time for our lord to be awakened, certain factions of the Order were eager to see this day come. The prophecies and words of our scriptures would come to pass and we would be chosen to witness the rebirth."

"You're wrong," Heather replied. Though she attempted to sound strong, she was weak and drained. "You've only damned yourselves and everyone else, don't you understand that?"

"My lord!" Killian threw up his hands in front of the eight-foot giant. "Allow me to humble myself before you. It was I that contributed to your awakening. These wretches set forth to prevent your greatness from shining on this pitiful world. Now, as you have instructed, I have brought them to you for you to dispose of so you may remake this world in your own image."

"Killian, get away from there!" Harry Mason managed to scream. Though the man was responsible for all this and Harry's wound, and though he wanted to kill the man only moments ago, Harry didn't want him to die at the hands of Samael. That would only grant the demon the pleasure he wanted.

"This is what you wanted to see, what you wanted to know, wasn't it? You hoped to feast your eyes upon our lord, now he will deliver you to your deaths," Killian hatefully yelled back. Then he went stiff.

Killian felt a piercing pain shoot through his back and then a crunch and pop of something ripping. Then he fell to the ground, dead. He didn't even live long enough to realize Samael had snatched out his spine and ripped it from his body, throwing it across the room like a piece of unwanted trash.

Harry noticed Greg Wallace slip into the shadows and disappear out of sight.

Samael took a heavy breath, filling the room with a foul stench then turned its attention to them. The menacing eyes studied each of them then focused on all of them at once. Michael could swear the corners of Samael's mouth curled upward in a smile.

"Mike, I hope you've got a plan," Trey whispered as they took several steps back.

"Why do you always rely on me to have a plan?" Michael snapped back.

"You're the leader aren't you?"

"No, for the last time, I'm not the leader," Michael began then gave up. This was the wrong time to argue about who was responsible for getting them out of this situation. Then something crossed his mind. The symbol from earlier. The one at Felicia's. There was something about it that he couldn't remember. Then it came back to him.

_The symbol commonly used in the ritual represents The Halo of the Sun. The outer two circles are charity and resurrection and the three inner circles represent past, present, and future. Usually, it is drawn in red. Black or other dark colors are acceptable as well, but blue is strictly forbidden as it places a curse on the deity being honored with the symbol._

The symbol was the key. If Michael could somehow replicate that symbol, maybe, just maybe they had a chance.

"Christine, take my camera," Michael reached in his backpack and tossed the small, tan case to Trey. "There's a picture of a symbol on there. Find that picture and I want you to make that same symbol."

Christine clumsily caught the camera then caught the blue marker Michael tossed.

"We'll make sure you're covered, just don't miss any details, okay?"

She still had questions, but Christine understood the general directions and knew there wasn't any time for a bunch of answers. She stole a glance toward Samael, who took a heavy step toward them.

"Michael, we don't have much time," Christine said.

Michael acknowledged her statement and rushed through the rest of his directions. "We're going to attack from the right side of the pew and the left side, while keeping Christine covered in the middle. Everyone have their weapons ready?"

Harry, Cybil, Douglas, Heather, and Trey all checked their weapons and gave a reassuring nod that they were ready.

"Mr. Mason, are you going to be okay?"

"Don't worry about me, let's just take care of this," Harry's kind smile was now a tense line of determination.

"Henry and Tina, can you two help Christine with the symbols and if there's anything else like ammo lying around, could you guys get it to us?"

They both agreed.

Without another word, Michael dashed to the right side of the church, navigating through the narrow pews. Trey and Heather followed as well, immediately grabbing Samael's attention. Michael stopped abruptly and fired off a round, but couldn't tell whether it affected Samael or not.

Heather and Trey fired off their respective ammo as well, but Samael didn't even flinch. Instead, he tore up the first pew and threw it at them. They quickly ducked as the pew hit the others with a loud crack.

Harry, Cybil, and Douglas began to fire, drawing the monster's attention. They were in front of the pews with little cover. Samael sucked in a large breath and when he let it out, searing flames poured from his nostrils and mouth. It was an attack with a short range though and they all were able to dodge it.

Despite the noise of bullets sailing through the air, various crashes, and the crackling flames at the front of the church, the replication of the symbol was nearly complete. Tina and Henry both pointed out the smaller details of the symbol that Christine would have otherwise missed. She realized that rushing would only cause mistakes, so despite the gravity of the situation, Christine took her time. It would only be a few more minutes before she was done. Christine hoped that the others would stay safe until then.

III.

"I don't think this is working!" Trey screamed as he launched more arrows at Samael. The massive deity phased out of existence suddenly becoming translucent. The arrows passed through Samael to the other side and stuck in the wall. Then the demon was normal again.

Samael held up a hand and several dark shadows crashed through the ceiling. Winged nightmares swooped down on the group then soared back into the air, their leathery wings cutting through the air with a loud whoosh.

"Take down the monsters!" Cybil commanded as she carefully aimed and fired at them. Though they whisked through the air, with a few shots, one fell. "Michael, I'm going to grab that dagger. We're going to need it."

"Heather, wait!" Michael shouted, but it was too late.

Heather hurdled the pews and dashed past Samael toward the altar. Samael noticed her out of the corner of his eye and swung a massive fist at her. She grunted and leaped on the altar, rolled to the other side, and then dropped to the floor. The fist slammed into the altar, riddling it with several cracks.

She didn't have a lot of time. Heather scanned the floor and tried not to gag from the copious amounts of blood that pooled on the floor. Then there it was, still in Father Tom's hand, the dagger. Heather stayed low and ran to the body and grabbed the dagger, but even in death, Father Tom still proved to be a pain in the ass. He held fast to the weapon.

"Let go!" Heather screamed as she tugged then finally snatched the dagger from his stiff fingers.

She looked up and Samael was already upon her. All she could do was brace herself. Samael backhanded her, hitting the entire left side of her body. With a groan, Heather sailed through the air but her fall was broken by Trey. The dagger however slid out of her hand and stopped underneath one of the few pews still in place.

"Are you okay?" Trey asked.

Heather nodded then scanned the floor for the dagger. "Henry, grab that dagger!" she called. They turned their attention to Samael who was stomping toward them.

Trey stood and grabbed Heather. They ran back over to the right, away from Christine, Henry, and Tina toward Michael. He fired over them as they passed by, but still he wondered if the bullets had any effect.

Michael leaped to the side as another burst of flame erupted from his mouth. Trey and Heather hid behind a pillar. Michael wondered if they had made a mistake by confronting Samael when he heard what he had been waiting for.

"The symbol's finished!" Christine shouted.

Michael breathed a quick sigh of relief, maybe they still had a chance. He stood and fired at Samael again, but a faint light from the other side of the church caught his eye.

Harry noticed Michael's curious glance, but didn't realize why until he felt a warm pulsating object in his jacket pocket. Quickly reaching in his pocket, he pulled out the Flauros. Harry held flatly in his palm to get a better look at it. Its soft white light was warm and soothing. Then a bolt of light shot from it and hit Samael.

It pierced completely though Samael's arm and thick, black blood oozed from the wound. Samael reacted quickly and shot a bolt of force from his hands that knocked Harry completely off his feet. He hit the wall hard then fell to the ground.

"Dad!" Heather screamed. She whipped around quickly, her eyes completely red. A hex bolt flew from her eyes and hit Samael in the midsection. Heather's attack caught Samael off guard and he stumbled back. Michael and Trey took advantage of the situation and fired quickly, the bullets and arrows finally tearing through Samael's flesh.

With a loud roar, Samael stood and the bullets and arrows were deflected once again. They had made progress, though it was small, and they all felt a glimmer of hope.

"Heather, you have to use the Flauros. You're drawing power from Samael's existence, the same as I am," Michael explained. "Harry is too, though his power is limited. I'm sure that the White Claudia has something to do with it. You have to focus your power through the Flauros and concentrate on the symbol!" Michael yelled. He prayed his voice wasn't lost in the wind.

Michael and Trey covered her as she dashed back across the church to Harry's side. He moved gingerly, while Cybil and Douglas kept the flying creatures away.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, just a little winded," Harry replied.

Heather touched his shoulder. "We'll take care of this, just don't get yourself hurt anymore."

"You too," he said as he picked up his gun.

Heather held the small, ivory pyramid in her hand, advanced toward the symbol, and closed her eyes. She heard a flying creature shriek towards her, but she refused to break her concentration. If she was meant to be struck down, she would do what she could to the end.

The gunshot remotely surprised Heather but the sound of Douglas's voice let her know she had more time.

"Cover Heather!" Douglas directed as he shot another flying creature out of the sky. It hit the ground with a sickening thud. Cybil and Harry both fired at the swarm of creatures overhead. As soon as one or two would dive toward them, they would easily take them out.

Trey and Michael fired at Samael, but it was of no use. The bullets and arrows simply disintegrated as they neared. Michael glanced back at Heather, hoping she had enough time. When her eyes opened, they shone deep red. It was working.

The symbol on the ground glowed dimly and expanded at the same time, exactly what Michael hoped would happen. Now, all they had to do was force Samael into the circle.

"What now?" Trey yelled over all the other noise.

Michael replied, "We have to get him into the circle."

Before either of them could plan it out, Samael howled and swept his hand through the air. A wave of force knocked them back against the wall.

Michael shook off the daze that clouded his head. He realized that the ground was moving beneath him. Was it an earthquake? Michael sat up and saw that it wasn't an earthquake. Something was creeping underneath the dirt, like it was alive. Then hands erupted from ground and grabbed at Michael, holding onto anything they could grasp. His backpack, sweater, jeans, arms, legs—Michael batted at the hands but several more popped up and held fast.

He desperately glanced at Trey, who was in the same position. But the hands had begun to pull him into the ground.

"Trey!" Michael screamed. Then he too was being pulled into the ground. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

IV.

They were going to lose.

The sudden realization hit Christine hard. They were in a losing battle. Samael was much too powerful, but what did they expect fighting a deity? Michael and Trey were trapped, fighting off hands that threatened to drag them into the ground. Harry, Cybil, and Douglas had Heather covered while she kept her power focused through the Flauros.

Henry held fast to the dagger that Heather retrieved earlier. She remembered Michael's description of the ancient weapon and was able to surmise that it may be the only weapon in their possession that could affect Samael.

"Tina, Henry, help Michael and Trey!" she directed. The both of them dashed over and tried to battle off the hands that pulled Michael and Trey farther into the ground. But the hands grabbed them as well and they were in as much trouble as the others.

There was only one thing left to do.

Christine blinked away hot tears and focused. She reached down and retrieved the dagger from the ground. Its power sent a surge of energy through her and Christine knew that she would be okay.

Then, she charged Samael.

Harry didn't notice Christine until the last second when she threw herself at Samael. He saw her plunge the dagger into Samael's exposed black heart. It tore past the ribs and pierced the oversized muscle. She dangled from Samael's chest like a small doll in the hands of a frantic child, whipped back and forth. Dark blood ran down Samael's chest from the wound and the creature bellowed moans of pain. Christine wasn't sure whether hr plan worked or not until a brilliant light shone from the floor.

The light spanned the church, totally disintegrating the monsters Harry, Cybil, and Douglas fought against and the demonic hands that held onto Trey, Michael, Tina, and Henry.

Samael had stumbled into the expanded symbol. But Christine was also trapped.

The outline of the symbol shone brilliantly. Its light shot through the ceiling and continued on for eternity, encasing Christine and Samael in its powerful luminescence. Its radiance bathed over everyone in the room, but it was ice cold, not warm like normal light.

"Michael, you have to finish it, now!" Christine yelled. She held fast onto the dagger, which somehow gave her a ghost-like quality. Though Samael tried to pound and pull her away, his claws simply went through her and he only injured himself more, tearing out his insides.

That dagger was the only thing protecting Christine from being torn apart by both Samael and the light of the symbol. Michael was sure that a single blow from either would mean instant death for her.

"What does she mean 'finish it'? Michael, get her the hell out of there!" Trey yelled. "Trey—" Michael began.

Trey sprinted toward the light and as soon as he reached the border of the symbol, he was blasted back. He hit the ground hard, but was on his feet again. He took another go at it with the same results. This time, Trey ran to the edge then turned back to Michael.

"Christine! No!" Trey wailed. "Michael, get her out of there!"

Michael felt nauseous. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Samael was supposed to fall into the symbol and Michael was supposed to use the banishing spell. But if he did it now, Christine would be affected as well. The only way to get Christine out of there was to stop Heather from using the Flauros, which would release Samael. The only reason why he was being hurt now was because of the symbol and Heather's combined powers. If he broke it now, there was no way they would be able to replicate the situation.

Michael glanced at Heather, who was holding her concentration, but sweat poured down her face, from holding Samael trapped. If he didn't do something now, the whole plan would fall apart, and they would lose. He felt his stomach sink as he realized he had no choice.

Trey saw it in his face, because he quickly turned away and shouted toward Christine. "I can't lose you—"

"That's why you'll come and save me," she calmly said. Samael remained frozen in the symbol, and Christine dangled from the handle of the dagger in the center of Samael's chest. Even in her translucent form, Trey could see the tears streaming down her face, but her voice remained steady. "Michael, please. This is the only way."

Michael placed a hand on Trey's shoulder. A nervous shiver shook him to the core both in anticipation of using the spell and the realization that he was losing a friend. Maybe two. Trey didn't shy away from Michael's touch, but kept his eyes locked with Christine's.

"The curse is upon you, Samael. Let this symbol bind your earthly body and trap your otherworldly soul," Michael declared. Then he finished the spell, "O let the power vested within me be used to trounce the evil grasping this world. One ounce of goodness shall vanquish oceans of evil—let this goodness shine forth though this worldly vessel. Let the proprietor of this evil be banished once again. Casses anima, ablegatio!"

Time stopped. There was no sound, no movement, nothing. Then, Samael howled, a painful bellow that started everything to crumble around them.

There were screams, but they were drowned out by Samael's continuous wail and the escalating rumble. Small specks of light gravitated toward Samael, disappearing into his body and as the seconds ticked by, more and more rushed to the center of his body until there was a flash and an explosion. The force threw everyone back and shook the foundation of the church. Some of the pillars shook and the ceiling cracked and began to cave in.

Michael coughed, trying to catch his breath after hitting the wall. He saw Henry back up against the wall, a chunk of ceiling barely missing him. Then a large black circle opened behind him and before he could react, he was sucked into it. It vanished just as quickly as it had reappeared. "Henry!" Michael called, but his voice was lost in the rumbling of the church.

Harry managed to knock Tina out of the way of a falling pillar. They rolled to the side as more of the ceiling caved in on them. Cybil and Douglas Managed to make it to a doorway, but the walls crumbled and obscured Michael's view of them. Michael caught a glimpse of Trey and Heather who stumbled toward him.

Michael stepped toward them, but the floor cracked and began to split, throwing him off balance. He fell into the wall and slid to the ground.

Trey and Heather leaped across the growing chasm and kneeled beside Michael.

"We're going to make it out of here," Heather whispered.

Michael looked up to see a huge piece of the ceiling crack then fall. Then everything was dark.

Epilogue

A breeze rustled small branches softly, and leaves tumbled aimlessly through the air until they met the ground. Michael watched in silent rapture, still reflecting over everything that had happened. He turned from the window and drew the curtains. He wished he could believe everything was normal, but he knew better. None of them would be the same again. And he knew that the evil wasn't truly gone. There was still Henry Townsend and Christine Mitchell.

The authorities hadn't found any of the bodies of the deceased students, so they had simply classified them as missing. Stacy, Felicia, Brent, Corey. According to the police report, all of them had disappeared into thin air. The university administration and local paper attributed the disappearances to some kind of college prank and nothing more, assuring parents and the public that they would turn back up soon. The news of the college was quickly overshadowed by eccentric movie stars and their petty melodramas. And shortly after that, the strange circumstances surrounding the college were forgotten about by the local populace.

But those affected by the disappearances hadn't forgotten. Michael McNeal hadn't forgotten. Then again, he knew the truth. None of those students would ever show up again, neither would the unmentioned people that were killed in Silent Hill. They were nothing more unwitting victims in a plot that was much bigger than them. But so was Michael. He managed to survive though, only because of the friends by his side.

Michael pushed a sweater into his duffel bag then zipped it, thankful he only had a few bags to load in his car. Because of his missing roommate, Michael had been given special permission to leave before graduation, which was only in a few weeks. He had been given a "pass" for all of his classes because of the psychological hardship of having a missing roommate. When the counselor said that to him, he couldn't help but laugh. If only she knew what they had gone through. She didn't know the meaning of psychological hardship.

Michael hadn't had any of his strange psychic premonitions since Samael had been banished. He figured that the strange ritual he had been subjected to contributed to his enhanced clairvoyance in addition to the White Claudia that was in his system. Enough time had passed for the chemicals to be flushed out of his system, and because they were no longer in the strange version of Silent Hill, Michael figured that the ability was gone for good.

He thought of the others then focused on two in particular. Henry Townsend was still trapped in his apartment. Michael had to find him. He promised he would find him, even if it meant going back to the strange world of Silent Hill. And then there was Christine. She sacrificed herself to deter Samael's complete resurrection. Christine had accepted her role and bravely faced it to save them. Now, she was gone, a prisoner somewhere in the nightmarish world of Silent Hill. Would she be the same when they found her? Would she even be alive?

Michael closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He determined that no matter what, he would find the both of them and stop Silent Hill, no matter the cost. He intended to return to the window to clear his mind again, but froze when he realized the curtains were closed.

He didn't remember closing the curtains. In fact, he hardly ever drew the curtains, even after getting out of the shower. Taking slow steps, Michael approached the curtains, the fear of uncertainty creeping over him.

Michael carefully reached for the curtains, suddenly realizing that he was vulnerable—he had no weapon to defend himself, he wasn't prepared for a physical fight, and there was nothing between him and the window. But still he grabbed the curtain and snatched it back. He froze.

The all too familiar scrawl that had followed them throughout Silent Hill had now found a home on Michael's window.

SOUTH ASHFIELD HEIGHTS, 302

The crimson words stared back at Michael, the red liquid running down the glass and pooling in the window sill. He took a few steps back in disbelief, nearly falling over his bed.

It knew they were coming. It wanted them to come. The evil was undoubtedly still out there.

A loud knock startled Michael out of his thoughts. He stared at the letters as he backed toward the door, afraid that if he turned his back on them, they would somehow come to life and pierce him through his back.

He opened the door and stepped to the side, somehow knowing that it was Trey at the door.

"It knows were coming then," Trey said.

Michael didn't respond. He couldn't respond. Michael realized that if they did pursue Henry and Christine, something even more gruesome would be waiting for them. They were lucky this time. But next time, they may not fare as well. They were walking to their deaths, but Michael made a promise and he wouldn't back away. No amount of intimidation would deter him.

Michael felt his fear turn into anger then merge with determination.

Trey noticed the bags on Michael's bed. "You weren't planning on leaving me behind, were you?"

Michael frowned. "I don't want you to go."

"The hell I'm not." Trey's voice quickly escalated. "Christine sacrificed herself to save us—all of us. I owe her my life and I plan on doing whatever it takes to save her from whatever hell she's trapped in. She trusted you to save her, and I'm here to make sure you fill that promise and not die in the process. So, I don't give a damn what you want or don't want. I'm going."

Silence fell between them. Michael wanted to argue, but it wouldn't accomplish anything. In the end, Trey would go regardless of whatever point Michael made. And honestly, Michael was thankful.

Michael's eyes fell to a few bags outside of the door. "Is that all you have?" Michael asked.

"And this," Trey patted his crossbow case thrown over his shoulder.

"Let's go," Michael said. He grabbed his two bags and slung his backpack over his shoulder, while Trey grabbed his own bags. Michael and Trey let the door slam behind them, and they purposefully and silently made their way down to the parking lot.

Michael easily spotted his car, a maroon, 2002 Nissan Altima. It was still in the same spot that he left it, despite the transformation it seemed the entire world had undergone. And it wasn't damaged in the least. He used the keyless entry to unlock all the doors and pop the trunk in three quick button presses.

As shoved bags into the trunk, a familiar voice called out to them. "It's about time you boys got down here. I didn't want to wait out here all day," Heather Mason said.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked much more sharply than he meant to. He noticed a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.

Heather either didn't catch the edge in his voice or simply didn't care. She replied, "I'm going with you. Why else would I be here?"

"We're going home," Michael lied. It was bad enough that he couldn't shake Trey but he wouldn't let Heather go too.

Heather frowned. "First of all, you're not a good liar. And if you are telling the truth, then you're the biggest liar I've ever seen."

"What?" Michael asked, puzzled.

"I don't believe for a second that the both of you are going home. But in the event that you are, then you're breaking your promise to Henry and Christine."

Michael exhaled loudly. It seemed that nothing was easy these days.

"Fine. There was writing on my window. It was an address and I presume it's Henry's address."

"Seems our favorite ghostwriter is still lurking in the shadows and still writing in blood," Trey added.

Heather replied, "South Ashfield Heights, Apartment 302. 452-555-2005."

"I guess the ghostwriter likes you better. He left you a phone number," Trey said.

"You are the most simple person I've ever met," Heather said. "I just looked it up on the internet. He's a pretty popular photographer actually, so it was easy to find his address and phone number."

"Oh," Trey replied.

"You can't go with us," Michael finally said.

"What do you mean I—" Heather began to argue.

"You know what? Nevermind. Just get in," Michael said as he slid into the driver's seat. Heather smiled as she climbed into the passenger seat and Trey hopped in the back.

"So, what's the plan, Mikey?" Trey asked.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're the leader, right?"

"For the last time, I'm not," Michael sighed loudly and shook his head. "I'll figure it out when we get there."

"Cool," Trey said and sat back as a haunting song came over the radio.

"This isn't going to be easy," Heather ominously said.

Michael didn't need her to tell him that. There would no doubt be more bloodshed, more horror, and more monsters to deal with. There was no turning back for any of them though. As much as Michael didn't want them involved, they were chosen and now they had to see this through to the end.

"We'll be fine," Michael assured them as he pulled out of the parking lot. He quickly got on the highway, heading for South Ashfield.

The evil was reaching for them, calling them back to claim their souls. And they were answering the call once again.

End.

Notes:

Thank you to all of the readers that stayed with this story from the beginning to the very end. I appreciate all of the reviews and words of encouragement. You guys really helped make this story and I have to say that I couldn't have done it without you. Both this story and Silent Hill 3: Harry Mason, developed into much bigger stories than I originally intended. Now, I think at this point, they are two of my best stories so far and I hope to continue on with a sequel to this, eventually. Again, I appreciate every last reader, whether you left a review or not. I hope that all of you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. Mike N.

Crazyb1tch85: I absolutely love your rambling reviews. If I write another Silent Hill story, I'll definitely be looking forward to your reviews! Hopefully, this chapter cleared up the situation with Michael's emerging (and now gone) abilities. I'm glad that you like Trey. I initially intended to kill him off in one of the earlier chapters. But as I wrote him, he became one of my favorite characters. He added comedy as well as being the resident bad-ass of the group. And he does have infinite arrows; it's mentioned when he first finds the crossbow. That is probably the only really game-type thing I really meant to put in there (a weapon with infinite ammo). I have seen a glimpse of the preview to the new Silent Hill movie. I hope they do a good job with it; as soon I get the chance, I'm going to go see it. We'll have to chat about it sometime.

KylieMason: I'm glad that this story could get your creative juices flowing. I'm the opposite way: when I see artwork, it makes me want to write. It's good that you enjoy the story and good luck with your art. I hope to see some of it posted up on the internet sometime.

Kathey: I appreciate the compliments. Let me know what you think of the final chapter.

PiRSquared: Like I said in my e-mail a while ago, I definitely appreciate the review. I did try to explain why Michael had the reaction he had, and hopefully you understand why Harry had the reaction he had as well. Both of them were connected to Silent Hill by means they weren't originally aware of. Thanks for the encouragement and hopefully, this final chapter makes this story complete.

DarknessinShadows: Yeah, I took a little while to update (business trip, writer's block, constant rewrites), but hopefully this ending closes the story well. Let me know what you think.

Shortey: Hopefully, this was the bang that you were looking for. Though it wasn't a happy ending, hopefully it left you longing for the sequel. It may take awhile, but be on the lookout.

Duelist-17: I'll definitely check out your story. I'm looking forward to it. Hope you like the ending.


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